


When The Other Shoe Drops

by TippityTop



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Comedy, Fluff, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-20
Updated: 2014-06-20
Packaged: 2018-01-25 21:00:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1662266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TippityTop/pseuds/TippityTop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave Strider and John Egbert decide to share an apartment. That's normal. But when you throw in feelings, 'unintentional sexiness' and 'certain situations', it just gets a whole lot more complicated.<br/>To be fair, normalcy was always too mainstream.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Moving in and other Significant Happenings

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to make this have chapters. Many chapters. Enjoy!  
> Thanks for reading!

You are standing in front of a door.

That itself probably seems a normal enough situation for anybody to be in. Let’s rephrase that a bit: you are currently standing, surrounded by several large cardboard boxes containing various items, and have five more precariously balanced in your arms. The door in front of you has No.20 plastered on it in big, black plastic numbers. The white paint on the door is a bit faded and seems to be peeling off in certain areas. Somewhere in the distance a dog barks.

You have absolutely no idea what possessed you to drive all the way from Texas to Washington. Or more accurately, to this apartment building somewhere in Washington.

Oh wait- that’s right. It was because of some idiot named John Egbert.

Actually, scratch that- it was because you’re an idiot.

Just as you come to this remarkable conclusion, a veritable human hurricane barrels itself into you from behind. “DAAAAAVVEE!!” your mystery attacker yells before wrapping you in a bear hug. You would be inclined to answer but are more preoccupied with the fact that boxes tend to follow the forces of physics when they are hit. You also are not into getting close and personal with the door. As your face gets dangerously close to the door you abruptly twist and attempt to gain proper footing.

You manage to accomplish this amazing feat from within the iron grip of your assailant and simultaneously grab the more important boxes before they crash to the floor. This is all thanks to your lightning fast reflexes. However, there is only so much that you can do with that- changing the fact that you’re still approaching the door is, sadly, not within your abilities. The inevitable happens- mainly the door meets your back officially and marries it.

“Oh my god! DAVE! You’re finally here! Dave, Dave, Dave, Daaaave!” your assaulter babbles into the front of your shirt. You can see his messy black hair sticking out all over the place. Then he turns his head up to face you and you swear you just looked into the sun. The smile on his face is that bright. Thank god for shades.

“Whoa, slow down Egbert. We can’t get married yet- you need to properly introduce me to your dad. What about wedding plans? I demand that we have the ceremony in church. In pink. We need the rainbow streamers too, with a fountain of apple juice. And the best man? You need to get that shit sorted, pronto.”

“Dave! We’re practically engaged! I’m just going to pretend you didn’t forget that so I can go back to hugging the life out of you!”

So you stand there, balancing boxes in either hand, and let John squeeze the living daylights out of you as your spine outdoes itself getting comfortable with hard wooden doors. It is more than little bit awkward for you. On one hand you’re insanely happy to see John, on the other; you’re not entirely used to such a warm welcome. Striders are not a very touchy-feely bunch. They’re more of the ‘Hey-nod-head-done’ type. Also John is very warm. And kind of cute. Actually, he’s very cute. And whoa, what the hell? You just realized that your back should no longer be so intimate with the door.

“As much as I enjoy our little make-out session, I would like to suggest that we move it indoors- the neighbors probably can’t take much more,” you casually remark. John looks up at you from where he was busy burrowing his face through your shirt. He still has that blinding grin on his face, but he slowly detaches his arms from you. “Oh, yeah! Just wait until you see the apartment! Come on, it’s great!” he says while he digs out the apartment key from his back pocket, “But oh man! It’s so cool that you’re finally here!”

You step away from the door and permanently end the budding relationship between your back and the wood. He stuffs the key into the keyhole all the while rambling off about how he’s so excited about university and some students that live in the same apartment block and how Rose and Jade are going to the same university and that everyone will all be in one place and that he’s so happy he’s finally independent now etc. etc. You nod and agree, absently taking note of how nice his voice sounds and how animatedly he talks, waving his hands and widening his eyes behind his glasses. You almost forgot how blue his eyes were in real life.

When he finally opens the door and gestures for you to go inside you’re so lost in thought that you nearly forget that you’re carrying about four boxes, two on each side. Nearly. You barely avoid looking terribly uncool, by attempting to walk straight through the narrow doorway and getting stuck, by turning at the last second. John is, thankfully, looking inside and misses this.

The apartment is borderline average sized. You can see a tiny kitchen with a fridge occupying the left corner and a small living room already filled with a TV, sofa and a low table. There are two windows in the living room and a short hallway leading off to where you guess the bedrooms and toilet are situated. The walls are white and the floor is covered in wooden paneling. It’s pretty nice, almost quaint; you’ll have to admit- though anything would beat the smuppet covered apartment, rife with hidden death traps, which you came from.

Noticing that John has fallen silent, you turn and see him looking expectantly at you. Giving a low whistle you proceed to say, “This is a pretty sweet deal you’ve got here, Egbert.” If you thought his grin was blinding, the smile he flashes your way is about ten times brighter. “I know right? My dad was impressed too. I already got most of my stuff moved in but you can choose which room you want, okay?” John says before grabbing one of the boxes you’re holding, “I’ll help you carry your stuff! Just go and look at the rooms and decide so we can put this somewhere.” Then he gives you a light push in the direction of the hall before starting to move the rest of the boxes in.

There’s a closet in the hallway with a washing machine and a dryer beside it. A stack of boxes form a small tower in front of the closet- probably John’s room stuff judging from the corner of the Ghostbusters poster poking out from the top. The rooms are at the end of the hallway, next to each other, and are pretty much identical in shape and size. There’s a window in each, overlooking the parking lot, and a closet. The only difference between them being that one closet is in slightly better shape, and the fact that the other one is opposite of the bathroom. You decide to be nice and give John the better closet. It’s the least you can do, seeing as the other closet is practically falling to pieces. This means you take the room nearest to the bathroom.

“Uh, Dave?” John calls from the living room.

“Yeah, honey?”

“Why is there a sword in here?”

“It’s mine.”

“…Uh, okay? I actually meant, why do you have a sword? It’s real too.”

“It’s a katana and no shit, Sherlock. I use it to cut up my vegetables and shit. Also, it’s pretty handy as a spare clothes hanger and for stirring soup.”

You put the boxes you were carrying down in your new room and walk back out to where John is standing by your stuff. He’s holding your katana at arm length and staring at it curiously. “It won’t bite you John,” you say as you walk past him and grab another box from outside and deposit inside, “It’s well-trained and all. Just make sure you don’t take it out and run your finger on the blade- because that will fucking hurt.” He rolls his eyes at you when you walk behind him with another box in tow, and replies, “It’s not like I don’t believe you Dave- even though I know you can’t cook to save your life.” Then he bends over and carefully puts your katana back into the box.

You can’t _not_ stare at his ass- it’s practically in your immediate line of sight. Holy shit. John has a nice ass. Damn. The jeans on him really fit well. You take a moment to offer praise to the maker of the jeans, wherever they are. It’s just so fine looking- John’s behind. You really want to- fuck. Nope. Hell no. You did not just check your best friend’s fine looking tush. That is a thing that did not happen. You avert your eyes from the tempting sight and look at the box in your arms instead.

Temptation is a wicked thing.

You glance at John’s ass again.

Hot damn.

John stands back up and turns towards you. Your eyes snap back to his face before he can misunderstand anything. Then you realize that you’re wearing sunglasses. John looks at you for about three seconds. You can swear that they were the longest three seconds your guilty conscience has had to endure. He walks around you to get more boxes and you quietly release a breath you never knew you were holding in.

“Dave,” John suddenly says from behind you.

Your guilty conscience sees the opportunity and strikes again. _Holyshitheknowsheknowsheknows_.

“You’re kind of blocking the way.”

“Oh, sorry about that- and about the other thing too,” you quickly say before your brain catches up to what your mouth just said.

Oh shit.

John looks up at you, genuinely bewildered. Oh my god, he has to look _up_ at you. He must be at least an inch or two shorter than you. Why do you find that so fucking adorable? Wait- fuck, that’s not what you’re supposed to be thinking right now, goddammit.

“What other thi- oh, that. It’s okay Dave! I’m used to that already!” he cheerfully says.

Wait- what? You feel as though you’re missing part of the conversation here. A very vital piece of the conversation. Such as the part containing the words ‘ass’ and ‘accidental ogling’. And why the hell is John okay with that? Sure, you’re not complaining but still- what did you miss here?

“Dave, if you don’t want to tell me why you have a swo- katana, it’s perfectly fine! I know you’re a complete weirdo, but you’re still my friend!”

You don’t know whether you should be feeling offended or relieved. You go with relief. Inwardly. Offended seems the natural reaction outwards though.

“John. John. If anyone is the weird one, that is you. You are the epitome of weirdness. You own that title hands down. All hail the John Egbert- King of Weirdness. I would get down on my knees and kiss your feet right now, if I wasn’t worried that it was somehow contagious.”

John laughs- oh god, why is his laugh so perfect. Fucking hell. You can see his cute little front teeth too. And his mouth- damn, you are going straight to hell for this. Well further into the depths of hell. You think you must be some sort of die-hard researcher, intent on studying the very pits of the underworld.

After about three hours of unpacking and arranging things John announces that he’s starving and that it’s time for lunch. You’ve mostly finished setting up your room- with the exception of your turntables. It still lies in its box, spare pieces and wires tangled together in a mess. You look at it, mentally calculating the hours you’ll need to set it up, and then decide to go eat. You’ll get around to doing that later. Probably tomorrow. You walk past John’s room and see that he hasn’t even gotten around to unpacking half of his stuff. About a tenth of it is properly arranged, posters hung and his computer set up. The rest lay in unruly heaps around the room. You spot the bunny you gave to him for his birthday, it’s propped up against the window sill and still in ace condition. Your heart does a stupid little flutter before you walk away.

Your nose leads you to the kitchen and you’re surprised to see John in front of the stove. Under further inspection, you find the source of the heavenly smell- some sort of soup is bubbling in a pot. “Dave! Just the person I needed. Do you mind passing me your kata-thingy? I need to stir this stuff,” he says, before shooting you a smirk. You decide to wrap your arms around his waist instead. “Looks good, honey,” you drawl into his ear, “When do we eat?” John’s ears turn pink and he looks down at the soup. “Uh, th-the bowls are in the box over there. You can set them up!” he practically squeaks.

Oh no, you’re not done with him yet. He’s way too cute- you mean, easy to mess with. Yeah.

You gently tilt his face up to yours with one hand and then murmur, “I wasn’t talking about the soup, babe- I was talking about _you_.” John stares up at you and dear god, those eyes should be illegal. And his mouth is absolutely adorable too, the lips so plump and soft looking. Oh, there are the front teeth, pearly white and peeking out. Fuck, you just want to kiss him. Kiss him until you’ve memorized every bit of his mouth. And he’s so warm and snug against you- holy shit, like really close to you. Really, really close. Jesus fucking Christ.

Is he, oh fuck- he _is_ moving closer.

Oh my god.

Oh my fucking god.

“Dave,” he slowly says, “I’m for dessert.” Then he winks at you.

Fuck. Your heart just stopped.

Then the whipped cream pie hits your head.

John is still laughing, even after you come back from washing your hair and changing your shirt. “Hehehe, Dave, you should have seen the look on your face! I got you! I should have taken a picture or something!” Then he doubles over on the sofa, giggling into it. There are two bowls of soup on the short table in front of the sofa and you eye them warily. You wouldn’t put it past John to slip an extra dose of pepper or some shit into your soup- just so he could get the additional joy from pranking you twice in a row.

“Hey, Egderp, quit laughing like some sort of deranged scientist. I’m having some doubts about living with you now- what other devious prankster plans do you have up your sleeve? My delicate nerves can’t take much more of this- I’m seriously considering a divorce here.” You declare, crossing your arms and shooting him a disapproving look. This meaning your eyebrows slightly furrow, since your sunglasses greatly limit the effectiveness of this. As well as your default deadpan face.

The asshole on the sofa continues smothering his laughter for a good five minutes before finally sitting up, a little breathless. “Okay, okay. Come on let’s eat!” he cheerily says. A little _too_ happily. You stare at him suspiciously before sitting down and poking the food with a spoon. “I’m not going to eat until you prove that you didn’t doctor my food with poison,” you say, cautiously observing the peas floating around in the soup. John looks at you from across the table and smiles sweetly.

“Oh, hell no. You didn’t.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Dave, it’s just chicken soup.”

“Oh my god, Egbert if this explodes in my face or something I swear- I will make you regret it so much you’ll be writing novels on how bad you feel. You’ll be singing ballads about how you never should have crossed Dave Strider and made soup that could kill. So don’t you ‘it’s _just_ chicken soup’ me.”

“Dave, I’m not going to kill you with soup. Who even does that?”

“You do, John. I’m pretty sure it’s in your top three things to accomplish today.”

“Dave! Shut up and eat!”

You experimentally dip your spoon into the soup. Seems normal enough you suppose. Or not. You’re not willing to find out. You glance over at John and see him looking back at you. He quickly looks back at his bowl and starts eating. Huh. Well that means his food is safe. When you catch him staring at you again it only confirms the fact that _something_ is wrong with yours. So you do the only logical thing- you grab his bowl and dump yours in front of him. Then you voraciously dig into his. And it is delicious. Extremely so.

“John, did I say I wanted a divorce? Consider that null and void- this is the best goddamn bowl of chicken soup I’ve ever tasted. It’s like the tears of angels from heaven or something- damn, I need to know why they cry tears that taste like divine chicken soup, and how you got them to do so.” You say after finishing all of his soup. John is staring wide-eyed and open mouthed at you. Yeah, you did finish it in less than twenty seconds, but it was fucking good. Ten out of five stars good. “I’m going to get seconds,” you say and then walk over to the kitchen.

When you come back with a second bowl full John seems to have recovered a bit. “How-what-I-I don’t even know what to say,” John stammers. “It’s okay John. I tend to have that effect- leave people speechless when they see me. Like they’ve just seen the best thing in their life, which they probably have. Don’t worry- you’re not the only one.” You flash a smirk before sitting down next to him. He hasn’t touched your soup. John looks at you and then follows your gaze to the untouched bowl of food. Then he sighs heavily and gets up to dispose of it in the sink.

“So what did you put in there? I figured it was triggered to somehow dissolve my innards,” you remark when he comes back with a new bowl of soup. “It was just a little bit of chili powder. Honestly, it wouldn’t kill you or anything!” He says, sitting down next to you, “I was so sure you’d fall for it.” You look at him and smirk again. He sticks his tongue out at you. The rest of lunch is fairly uneventful- you weren’t busy watching how John ate at all. Not thinking at all about how his pink tongue was so attentive to any drop of soup left on the spoon. Or how it moved to lick up any liquid from his lips. Of course not. Fuck no, you never did that.

Afterwards both of you go back to the tedious job of unpacking shit. Several times you find yourself cursing your bro for being so keen on helping you pack- he sure as hell didn’t do it to help, seeing as he had duck-taped some of the boxes a thousand times over. You’re sure it was for ironic purposes. When you finish unwrapping yet another one of your brother’s handiwork- to find a cardboard box within the box, you decide to take a break. Before you snap and end up driving all the way down to Texas to strangle your brother. Time to check on the Egderp.

You walk over to John’s room and see him busily putting clothes into his closet. His bed is already set up and made. When he notices you standing at the doorway he waves at you. “Sup Egbert,” you say before plodding into his room and collapsing on top of his bed. “Are you finished unpacking?” he asks as he hangs up some clothes, mostly sweaters, on his closet rack. “I’m dying here- write on my gravestone that unpacking killed me,” you mumble from his bed. John turns towards you and throws something at you. Out of reflex you catch it. It’s a blanket. “You can sleep- I’ll wake you up later, you big baby.” John says as he goes back to shuffling through his clothes. You prop yourself up on one elbow and gasp, “John, I am but a pure maiden. Surely you did not offer me your bed without some sort of- dare I say it, ulterior motive?”

John snorts and replies, “And what ulterior motive might I have in mind, my fair lady Strider?”

“I dunno, maybe I’d wake up and be bald or some shit like that.”

He laughs his fucking wonderful little laugh and then reassures you that he won’t lay a single finger on any strand of your pristine hair while you slumber. You make him pinky swear and recite ‘cross-my-heart-and-hope-to-die’ before being satisfied. Then you kick off your sneakers and dump the blanket over your face and slip off to sleep- shades still on because fuck it, you’re too tired to take them off. And because John is still there.

You also ignore the little voice in your head, saying that it is a very, _very_ bad idea to sleep in John’s room, because you are an idiot.

When you wake up, it is pitch black. For a moment you’re confused- did you really sleep that long? Then you realize that it’s because of the blanket on your face. Also, there is something incredibly warm and soft draped on top of you. You tear the blanket off your face and blink, the room is dim and from the window you can see the colors of dusk bleeding into the sky. A few stars are already visible in the darker areas. And the comfortable something beside you snuggles closer. You look down and see John clinging to you.

Your heart just won the Olympics sprinting marathon. At a record breaking speed of a million miles per millisecond.

You take several deep breaths- that shit is necessary for your gold medal winning heart. Okay. Just. Gonna take. A couple. More. Yeah.

Many deep breaths later, and you have sufficiently managed to return your heart rate back to normal. It does wonders for your brain too- from the incoherent babble it was rapidly firing away, it has slowed down to more comprehensible stuff like ‘holyshitwhyisjohnhereohmygodohmygodwhyishesofuckingadorable’. This isn’t really much of an improvement except for the fact that you’ve finally asked why John is here.

Sleeping.

On the bed.

With you.

Oh god, your brain is going insane.

Maybe you should untangle yourself from John. That is a fucking amazing idea- except that means you have to look at a sleeping, defenseless John. You are not going to look at him. Nope. Your heart likes to beat at an inhuman speed, while simultaneously flipping over invisible hurdles, when you look at him- so that is a terrible idea. So you decide to stay put, even if it leads to you unintentionally listening to every single sleepy breath John takes as he decides that it’s a fan-fucking-tastic idea to nuzzle into your chest.

Fuck.

Oh, fuck.

Fuck your life.

Of course fate or whatever evil omnipotent power out there decides it is not content with this torture. Oh no. Today has been a bad day for them. They’d rather take it out on you and make your situation even worse. It’s like they’re saying, “Dave? You mean Dave Strider? Oh, yeah him. Yes, let’s make this poor motherfucker have the worst fucking time in his entire life.”

Because shit just got real.

And by real, you mean it hit the motherfucking fan and went straight through said proverbial fan, as well as a couple hundred other fans and a twenty inch steel safe which held the word ‘real’ in it.

And all of this happens because John, fucking John Egbert, has to slip his leg through yours- right next to a very dangerous area. Seriously, his thigh is barely millimeters away from something that should have about fifty fucking kilometers between it right now- with a barbed wire fence and a ‘Danger! Do not touch!’ sign tacked to it, outlined in blinking lights, for extra good measure.

And he has to breathily say, “Oh, Dave,” in the sexiest, sleep moan ever.


	2. John is the Pranking Master

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John has some very creative methods in mind for getting back at Dave.  
> Very creative methods.  
> They may or may not include things only a highly dedicated prankster would attempt- someone like... a Pranking Master.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little heads up- it's kind of mature content. I think. I'm not really sure.  
> Consider yourselves warned!
> 
> Also- new chapters every four days. Huzzah.  
> Thanks for reading!

You wake up in the dark on your bed.

Uh, what? How did you get here again? Oh yeah, you fell asleep.

You yawn and try to remember what you were dreaming about- it was a good dream. It kind of left you with a pleasant, fuzzy feeling that spread from your fingertips all the way down to your toes. Lying on your bed with the post-sleep haze drifting about you is very comfortable. Something gnaws away at the corner of your mind though. You push it away- you’re busy trying to piece together what your dream was about. Then you remember that you were doing something before you…!

Crap, you fell asleep!

You scramble up into a sitting position. Okay, first things first- where are your glasses? You find them neatly placed on top of your folded, spare blanket. Strange, you don’t remember putting them there. When you look out your window you can see the stars dotting the night sky through the glass. They twinkle, bright and happy, up among the clouds. You’ve always liked looking up at the sky; it just makes you feel a little bit lighter. Sometimes you imagine yourself soaring through the air, happy and free, and it’s all really great. The little niggling feeling strikes again. You feel like you’re missing something. A rather important fact.

You wonder what it could be.

Oh shit- Dave!

For some reason you look under the bed first- you don’t know why but, somehow, it seems perfectly reasonable to your sleep addled mind. No Dave in sight though. Hm. You take a minute to sort out your muddled thoughts, lest you start searching for Dave in your closet and drawers next. The last thing you remember is dragging yourself over towards the bed because you were tired. Uh, was Dave on the bed too? You think he… might have been? Blugh, you really don’t remember!

Maybe he woke up already, you muse as you stretch and get off your bed. Oh jeez, what time was it anyways? After checking your phone and being slightly shocked at the time (10pm?! That’s insane!), you shuffle towards your bedroom door and open it. The lights are turned on in the hallway but other than that the apartment is covered in darkness. It is also ominously quiet. Like, really, really quiet. It’s honestly a bit unnerving.

“Dave?” you whisper quietly into the gloom. Nothing but silence greets you at that. This does not help your nerves. So you whisper again, slightly louder this time, because you’re a genius, “Dave!” and get no response.

Then the front door bangs open.

You regret to say that you jump a bit and let out a very high-pitched manly squeal. Manly. That is you.

“Jesus fucking Christ!”

The lights in the living room flicker to life and you see Dave at the door with a plastic bag in one hand and the other on the light switch. There is an awkward moment where the two of you just stare at each other- you from the edge of the hallway and him from the doorway. Uh, think fast! You can totally cover up your manly squeal! Not that there’s anything wrong with a little manly squealing once in a while!

“Um, Dave! Got you!” you say brightly, and if your voice trembles a teensy bit it’s only because your throat is sore. From sleeping.

Dave just stands at the door and looks at you. So you look back at him.

And then the awkward silence sets in again.

You’ve never wished so hard to become one with the floor.

After what seems like a small eternity, Dave breaks the silence.

“Sounded like a six year old girl.”

You probably look absolutely mortified at that, because he snickers before closing and locking the front door behind him. Then he walks to the kitchen and plops the bag on the counter. “I brought you dinner, baby girl. Sorry I forgot to get you the Barbie doll too.” You scowl at him and then go to inspect the contents of the bag. You’ll get back at him later- you swear on your honor as a prankster. Frankly, you’re more concerned whether or not Dave actually knows what ‘real food’ for dinner is- he seemed to think that having a staple diet, consisting of junk food and apple juice, was extremely commendable and was completely bewildered when you told him it wasn’t.

Inside the plastic bag you find a greasy burger and some fries. Well, it _is_ Dave you guess. You’re just really glad it isn’t an extra large bag of Doritos. You give him a smile, equal parts relieved and genuinely appreciative. “Thanks! And, by the way, I do _not_ sound like a girl- I was, um, trying to scare you!” The corners of his mouth twitch upwards, ever so slightly, at your reply. “Anything for you, Johnette. But what did I teach you about telling lies? I might have to stop giving you treats because of your bad behavior- I don’t want to do that Johnette.” He tutts, waving his forefinger at you in a disapproving way, before making his way over to the sofa to sit. Dave makes one last, annoying, ‘tsk’ sound before he turns on the television. You stand, greatly affronted, in the kitchen and watch the back of his head poke out from over the back of the sofa like a giant, fluffy, stylish dandelion, for a couple minutes.

Inwardly your prankster mind is going at full throttle- what can you do this time? What devilish deed will successfully make Dave see the error of treating you like a little girl? Oh. Oh, oh, oh. That’s an idea. It is a marvelous idea. You have a spectacular prank- this is going to get Dave really good. He’s going to regret whatever he said. He’s going to regret it _bad_.

This is going to be _so_ great.

You take a minute to compose yourself, it would not do to burst out into giggles and alert Dave of his impending doom. Then you grab your dinner bag and vault over the back of the sofa to land next to Dave. The sofa springs protest a bit too loudly but you ignore it- you’ve got a mission to carry out. If you were expecting him to be surprised by your flying entrance, you would be very disappointed right now- Dave barely seems to register your arrival, besides the fact that he moves the remote control away from its imminent death seconds before you land. But you weren’t expecting him to be shocked- he was always so careful with his poker face.

Hehehe.

“Daddy Dave,” you whine as you crawl into Dave’s lap, clutching the plastic bag firmly, “feed me!”

Dave literally turns to stone.

He just goes absolutely rigid and you swear he even stops breathing.

So you settle yourself comfortably on his lap and snuggle up next to his frozen figure. You’re struck with a strange sense of déjà vu for a split second before you proceed with the next step in your prank. This being you taking out the burger and placing it in Dave’s stiff hand.

Then you wait.

After a minute passes, with no reaction from Dave, you decide to bounce on his lap like a petulant child. When this fails to induce anything from Dave, you whine a bit more and wiggle around until you face him and sort of straddle his hips. You look straight at where you assume Dave’s eyes are behind his sunglasses before saying, “Daddy Dave, I’m hungry. I’m reeeeaaally sorry for lying though! Can you feed me? Please?”

Dave remains completely still.

“Pretty please?”

Dave doesn’t even twitch.

“Pretty please with whipped cream and a cherry on top?”

Dave statue remains unresponsive.

Disappointed, you decide to take this time to _really_ look at his face. What? It’s not really like you can do anything else! And Dave has a nice face, you guess? Well, at least from what you can see of his face that isn’t covered by shades. So you take in the white-blonde hair that ghosts down over his forehead and settles above his shades, as well as his insanely fair, pale skin and the dusting of light freckles that cover the bridge of his nose and cheekbones and disappear under his sunglasses.

You’re actually super happy that Dave still wears the present you gave to him- it just gets kind of annoying at times, like when he refuses to take them off. Ever. You kind of want to see the rest of his face. Speaking of which- his face is unnaturally still. It’s not exactly stiff… just, kind of slack? Sort of like he’s in shock. You bring up one hand and gently touch the side of his face.

His jaw sort of drops open at this.

Now he really looks shocked.

Best.

Prank.

Ever.

Then your stomach grumbles.

You take a second, of extremely careful deliberation, before deciding that Dave should be feeling sufficiently remorseful for what he did. So you maneuver yourself carefully off of Dave’s warm lap and back onto the space beside him. Then you grab your burger from his motionless hand and proceed to eat it with great gusto. It actually doesn’t taste half bad- it could do without the generous amount of grease slathered over the meat patty, but overall it tastes fantastic. You would ask Dave where he bought it if he wasn’t still in his rock-like state.

When you finish eating the burger you move on to the fries. The latter is definitely better than the former. They’re crispy and the salt added is just right. Again, you are tempted to ask Dave where exactly he went but he’s still busy being statuesque beside you. Really, you would think that he deserves some sort of medal for how into it he is. You’ll give him some more time, you guess- it _was_ a really good prank after all. If he didn’t have some sort of extended after-reaction you’d be more than a little upset. You turn to watch the TV, which has been running on some news channel for the past fifteen minutes, while digging into your delectable fries.

When you’re close to done with the fries, you glance at Dave again. There has been slight improvement you guess; he’s kind of shifted his position. Albeit, just barely. He’s still pretty stiff though. When you’re finished with the french fries you find your fingers coated in grease and salt. Absentmindedly, you lick your fingers clean. When you reach your third finger, Dave suddenly makes a strangled sort of sound in the back of his throat from beside you. You turn to him, surprised and a little concerned.

“Dave, are you okay?” you ask, worried that him not breathing for a while might have affected him somehow.

“The fuck Egbert?” he weakly replies.

“What?”

“The fuck Egbert.” He repeats flatly.

“Dave, I’m a bit worried- you can see me, right? Are you breathing alright?”

“John- you can’t just-“ he pauses and waves his hands weakly about to emphasize his point, “do whatever you just did- to someone and think they’ll be left without some form of… _trauma_. I’m broken right now Egbert. All over the place. In pieces.”

“…Dave, that was nearly half an hour ago.”

“In pieces. On the floor. No one’s going to help pick them up, John. No one. ”

“Gee Dave- I guess it really hit you hard? But don’t you, oh- I don’t know, kind of deserve it?”

“Like a fucking thirty tonne hammer- wait. Is this because I scared you? Because if it is then, oh my god Egbert. Just. O-M-G. Look at me John- I am literally omg-eeing away, like my life depends on it. Look at all the little omg’s flying out right now. Look at them. Do you see them John? Do you?”

“I wasn’t scared! I was just… surprised! Who even opens the door like that? Being surprised is a normal reaction!”

“Normal people don’t scream like a little girl who just saw her favorite celebrity in real life.”

“It was a _manly_ exclamation of surprise- anyways; I got you really good this time Dave! You went all still and everything- your face was priceless! I never thought I’d see you stunned by the way, it was really funny!!”

“…Fuck you.”

“I am the _Pranking Master_ , Dave. Deal with it.”

You waggle your eyebrows at him and Dave buries his face into his hands.

Score for John!

You can already feel your prankster’s gambit raising. The lady on TV prattles away about the latest celebrity scandals and you only half listen to her- you’re far too busy replaying your successful prank in your head and attempting to stifle your laughter. This was probably the best one you’ve pulled on Dave. For today. You can’t wait for the next chance you’ll get- seeing as you’ll be living together for a _long_ time. When you let a particularly loud snort escape, Dave elbows you in the ribs. You are about to retaliate when you realize that your hands are still dirty. So you resume licking them clean.

Dave does his weird choking sound again.

“Dude, seriously. Give it a rest- I _just_ moved in okay.”

Um, what? You look at him blankly, a finger still halfway in your mouth. You slide it out slowly, your mind racing a mile a minute, and lick the last bits of salt and oil away. Uh, nope? You still have no clue what he’s talking about.

“What?” you say, utterly confused.

“What?” Dave echoes back, sounding just as lost as you are.

In the background the cheery anchor lady announces that it’s now time for the late night talk shows. You and Dave are busy staring at each other- both of you trying to figure out the deeper meaning behind each other’s reply. Not that there was any striking difference between what you both said though. You are currently busy mulling over the limited possibilities in your mind- you can only assume Dave is doing the same with how still he is. Actually- wait. On further inspection, Dave seems to be subtly shifting about- rather uncomfortably. He turns his head away, after a couple seconds, and stares off towards the TV. Awkwardly.

Then why he does that, dawns upon you.

Oh.

Uhm.

Oh.

You’re not quite sure what to do now.

Um.

You’re probably blushing really badly now- your cheeks are pretty warm.

Because, well, that’s a- that’s a thing. That you did.

That is happening.

Well, happened.

Oh god, you really wish you could disappear.

However, even as you inwardly shrink down on yourself, your pranking abilities stubbornly refuse to follow suit. In fact, they do the exact opposite of shrink.

Because wait!

Actually this is a really good opportunity!

Mentally, you steel yourself- because, pranking abilities aside, you still need a moment to recover.

Okay.

You are the pranking master. It is you.

Experimentally, you leisurely lick up your finger. Dave lets out a tiny hiccup from beside you. Like he inhaled too fast or something. He is still facing the television screen, but- judging from his reaction, you’re pretty sure that he’s watching you from the corners of his eyes. Good. You carefully swirl the tip of your tongue over your fingertip- getting every last miniscule piece of salt clinging there, before giving a final swipe up the length of your finger. Then you deliberately suck your finger past your lips and envelop it completely with your mouth. Slowly.

Dave gives a small, strangled gasp and you notice that some pink has crept up into his face.

When you draw your finger out of your mouth with a loud pop, he actually squirms. Noticeably. Then you grab his hand and bring it dangerously close to your mouth. Just near enough for him to feel your breath ghost over his knuckles. Now you have Dave’s undivided attention. His head snaps towards you the minute your fingers close around his wrist. The people on the television chatter away idly in the distance.

“Oh, Dave- is your hand dirty too?” you ask innocently. You eye his hand and run your tongue over your lower lip.

Dave squeaks.

Like, literally- _squeaks_.

And you burst out laughing.

After Dave tackles you and pins you down in a full body lock for five minutes, all the while swearing vehemently to tickle the life out of you lest you diverge any information to certain ‘outside’ sources, you give up and beg for mercy. Dave is a lot stronger than he looks- and you make the mistake of telling him so. This leads to an unexpected tickle attack which leaves you wheezing for air and apologizing profusely for comparing him to spaghetti. Dave is not convinced. When he is finally satisfied with carrying out his hellish torture (which lasts for at least half an hour), he stands up and nonchalantly says goodnight over his shoulder before going into his room.

Like he didn’t just- you know- actually _squeak_. You are never going to tell Dave, but you were totally crossing your fingers when you promised him you’d never tell anyone. You are _so_ going to tell Rose and Jade.

Several minutes later, you finally manage to inhale enough air to make up for what you lost. You sit up from the sofa and allow a smug smile to flit over your face. Dave is really fun to prank. His reactions are the best. Anyways, you’re so glad that you guys are finally flat mates! Honestly, you sort of thought that he was joking with you when he agreed to share the apartment with you. It was kind of a spontaneous, last minute suggestion on your part- but he said that he was pretty cool with the whole idea. So, yeah!

When you get up you decide to take a quick shower before going to bed. As you make your way towards the bathroom with your towel slung over your shoulder, your mind wanders back to the dream you had. You wonder what it could have been about. If you think hard enough, some hazy images flash briefly at the back of your mind- but you can’t really get a better grasp on them. You decide to concentrate really hard on them- intent on piecing together the dream. The little images gradually begin to focus and realign themselves.

Just as you step inside the bathroom, you remember completely what your dream was about.

Oh.

Along with the realization comes an unnecessary… something.

A very unnecessary something.

You turn the water on at full blast and fervently hope that Dave is asleep or deeply preoccupied with something. You also hope to the ends of the earth that you didn’t sleep talk or anything.

Because, wow, that would be really embarrassing!!

 

 

You end up taking a very long shower.


	3. Surprise, surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave gets mail, pestered, rain, and a whole lot more than he bargained for.

You’re not sure whether you are experiencing heaven or hell.

Sometimes you’d swear it was heaven.

Then you’d furiously swear that it was hell.

Throughout the course of a week of living with John, you’ve never quite figured out which of them it is.

There is also, unfortunately, no ‘in-between’ the two of them for you either. Just the extremes. And by ‘extremes’ you mean the very _extreme_ extremes. Like you’re at the fucking precipices of the polar opposites. You teeter dangerously on their tiny pointed tops- desperately trying to regain your balance. Then, just when you think you’ve finally settled down, a force- which can only be described as one John Egbert, blasts you viciously in the other direction and you have to wildly leap to the other point.

This happens on a terrifyingly daily basis.

When you bang your head against the wall, cursing yourself the millionth time, for choosing the room nearest to the oh-so-very-soundproof bathroom- it’s definitely hell. Or it’s the times when John pulls an insanely sexy prank on you- what the hell? How do you even control yourself? You deserve some kind of fucking trophy for being able to resist that shit. That sexy shit. Yeah. Then it’s two hundred fifty fucking percent hell. It’s like part of the underworld decided to take residence within apartment No.20. Or maybe it’s you who’s gone to a very special place in hell- the place they reserve exclusively for poor, luckless fuckers. Poor, luckless, VIP fuckers. Like you.

Then there is being with John. And seeing John. All the time. John- with all his adorkable smiles, his laughter, his stupid- yet strangely endearing pranks (the more innocent ones), his cute little mannerisms, his embarrassingly over-protective and fussy, mother hen side, his mischievous, bright eyes, his ever-cheerful personality and his awkward-yet-still-amazingly-hot side etc. etc. Just- everything about John in general. Everything. It’s so wonderful and perfect that he has so many sides to him that you’ve never _really_ seen before. You’re pretty sure you’ll never get bored of waking up and seeing him every day. Never truly be able to get enough of him. Then it’s heaven. Just like that. Simple and easy. Just. Heaven.

You groan and flop your head on your desk. You are so lame. You just woke up- it’s three in the afternoon and you have absolutely no idea why you decided to have that inner reflection. The conclusion is still the same- John is going to kill you. Either by being too fucking oblivious and sweeter than sugar, or by being too fucking oblivious and sexy as hell.

Damn.

University starts the week after. You’re torn between wanting it to happen sooner, and not wanting it to happen at all. The sooner you get away from John, the safer he’ll be. And you’ll be. Because Jesus fucking Christ- that boy needs a warning label. However, the selfish part of you- the one you never realized you had- keeps wishing that you had more time to spend with John.

Alone.

And whoa- what a field day your mind just had with that thought.

Wow.

Shit.

Time to drag your mind out of the gutter- because that was definitely the front door opening.

John is back from grocery shopping. You hear the rustle of plastic bags as he sets them down in the kitchen and the scrape of his shoes on the floor through your door. Your very thin door. Which allows you to hear practically everything. Like- everything. Nope. Nope. Mind out of that evil recess. Changing thoughts now. Okay. You briefly wonder if he would look good in an apron- then you mentally kick yourself. Fuck, now you can’t get rid of that mental image. Oh fuck. The worst part of it is that the apron is the _only_ thing on the John in your head. You seriously need to spend time away from John- because damn, that is a very realistic mental picture right now. Holy shit.

Then John, bless his ignorance, chooses this fine opportunity to knock on your door.

“Dave? Are you awake yet?”

You nearly jump out of your skin.

“You better be up Dave- it’s three in the afternoon! And you have… mail. I think.”

The brief pause in the last part of his sentence has you scrambling to pull on a shirt. Yes- you did contemplate the deeper, more serious matters about your life in nothing but boxers and your sunglasses. Who doesn’t? When you are decently dressed- albeit halfway, you run your fingers through your hair and open the bedroom door. John steps back quickly, one hand raised as if he was just about to knock again. You see him look you up and down, stopping ever so slightly when he sees your boxers. He raises his eyebrows before saying, “Is that… Hello Kitten?” You arch a single eyebrow at his mistake before snorting- you can’t help it, he looks so bewildered.

“It’s Hello Kitty- that shit is ironic. What’s up with my mail?”

John's eyes snap back up to your face. You barely catch the fleeting expression on his features before it is quickly replaced with his normal cheery grin.

“Well, good morning Dave! And your mail is… um, kind of weird? I think you’d find it ironic or somethi-“

You’re already in the kitchen before John manages to finish. If John mentioning the words ‘weird’ and ‘ironic’ were any help, they’ve definitely lead you to the right assumption. On the counter is a fat, neon pink envelope with a couple sparkly rainbow stickers adorning it. It is addressed to ‘Davey, my love’ in flamboyant, loopy cursive letters. You pick it up, from the corner with two fingers, and carry the offensive object into the corner of the living room. You’d rather not risk opening it in the kitchen- god only knows what Bro did to it. John trails behind you, curiosity piqued.

“Who is it from? Is it your brother?”

“Yeah, do you have newspapers or something? I don’t want to make a mess on the floor when I open this- Bro would find it hilarious to make it explode once opened or something.”

“… Is it really going to be _that_ bad?”

“Yeah- it’s from Bro.”

John fetches some spare newspapers from a kitchen cabinet and lays them over the floor in the living room where you stand. Then he stands behind the sofa to watch. You feel very much like you are holding a bomb. Well, it’s now or never. Taking a deep breath, you flip the envelope over and carefully work on unsealing it. Once you open it- only mildly shocked that it didn’t combust in your hands, you flip the packet upside down to shake the contents out. This is your mistake. A veritable avalanche of pink sparkles erupts from the envelope and cascades down onto the newspapers. Jesus Christ- how much did he put in there? You are thankful for the newspapers- it was a good precaution. Thank god you didn’t just open it in the kitchen.

After a small mountain of sparkly pink dust finishes forming at your feet, you shake it a final time and a folded slip of white paper falls out to rest on top of the pile. As you bend down to retrieve it, you glance at John- he is busy gawking open-mouthed at the situation. You did warn him. Then you pick up the letter and open it. The words are written in orange. Typical. The contents, however, are not.

Dear Dave,

I know it has only been a week since you decided to fly away from the Strider nest to Washington. However, it has recently dawned upon me that the apartment is a little too quiet. I no longer hear you bitching about the lack of food in the fridge, or the dwindling supply of apple juice, or see piles of your shit all over the place. Suddenly, I’m hit with an overwhelming tsunami of sentimentalism- and I realized, I actually miss that little shit.

So I decided I’d go and visit the aforementioned little shit.

Details will be sent to you through Pesterchum.

\- Bro-

You feel like you should be making an expression similar to John’s.

You settle for screaming. Internally.

It is not in joy.

“So, what did he say?” John asks after five minutes of you standing and having a silent mental breakdown.

You choose not to reply and dash back into your room. You flip open your laptop and, within seconds, you have Pesterchum on your screen. You also see that Bro is online. He was probably waiting for you, the fucker. You take a moment to calm yourself before clicking on his chumhandle.

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT] at 15:25 --

TG: bro 

TG: no 

TG: fuck no 

TG: n to the fucking o

TT: Hello Dave. 

TT: It’s nice to see you too.

TG: you are not coming over 

TG: tell me youre not coming over 

TG: because you cant come over 

TG: end of story

TT: It’s nice to see that you miss me. 

TT: I’m surprised you can’t take a joke.

TG: what

TT: I needed to talk to you. What better way to make you willingly want to talk, than through sending a letter? 

TT: Since you tend to block me whenever I attempt to talk to you. 

TT: Rude little shit.

TG: what 

TG: bro are you serious right now 

TG: you wasted money on sending a letter 

TG: filled with a shit ton of glitter 

TG: so you could talk to me 

TG: on pesterchum 

TG: when youre like 

TG: the stingiest person alive 

TG: the man with the tightest hold on money 

TG: like damn 

TG: scrooge aint got nothing on you 

TG: just so we could talk 

TG: online

TT: I’m glad that you finally worked that out. 

TT: Your thinking capabilities are astounding. 

TT: I’ll get to the point- do you want a job?

TG: what? 

TG: seriously?

TT: Yes, seriously. 

TT: I know a guy who needs a DJ- I thought you might be interested. 

TT: He runs a club near your apartment; working hours are negotiable but the shifts are at night. 

TT: Just in case you didn’t know- DJ’s do complicated stuff like play music and remix things. 

TT: Just wanted to let you know.

TG: cool 

TG: ill check it out 

TG: you know you could have just said that in your letter 

TG: instead of this shitty roundabout way

TT: Wrong answer lil’ man.

TG: what

TT: I raised you to be polite. 

TT: Here’s a hint- this is where you say ‘thank you’ and bow down singing beautiful praises about me.

TG: fuck you bro

TG: you didnt teach me shit

TT: Wow, Dave. Rude. I only took care of your ungrateful ass for the last eighteen years. 

TT: Also, I just gave you a fucking job offer. 

TT: I’m practically a saint. 

TT: Come on Davey, just type it out.

TG: saints dont swear like drunken sailors 

TG: or run puppet porn sites

TT: You’re missing the point, Dave.

TG: oh my fucking god 

TG: i hope youre fucking happy 

TG: … 

TG: thanks 

TG: bro

TT: I’m so proud- you’ve finally become a gentleman. 

TT: I’ll tell him to expect you.

TT: Oh, one last thing Dave. 

TT: I decided that now would be a good time to give you the ‘talk’.

TG: what

TT: The talk.

TG: i know 

TG: i read that 

TG: i want to know why the fuck you want to do that

TT: Well, Dave. You’re a big boy now. 

TT: You may or may not have noticed this thing called ‘attraction’. 

TT: Just in case you did, there’s also this thing called ‘hormones’. 

TT: I don’t want to scare you, but because of this mysterious ‘hormones’ thing, your simple feelings of ‘attraction’ may develop into something called ‘lust’. 

TT: I also know that you are living with someone.

TG: whoa 

TG: what 

TG: wait 

TG: hold your horses 

TG: what

TT: Let me simplify that for you. 

TT: You might accidentally fuck your flat mate.

TG: what 

TG: oh my god 

TG: bro 

TG: no 

TG: stop 

TG: stop that train of thought 

TG: derail that motherfucker 

TG: smash it and scrap it 

TG: and burn it 

TG: because you are done 

TG: with this 

TG: topic 

TG: right now

TT: Just in case you do, remember to be safe about it. 

TT: I’m not going to go into details, but there’s this thing called the internet. 

TT: I raised you to be smart. 

TT: Go Google that shit up.

TG: tell me we did not seriously just have that conversation 

TG: im trying to figure out if this is a joke 

TG: or if its some new ironic thing for you 

TG: because if it is 

TG: its on a whole new level of irony 

TG: and unfunny 

TG: look at me laughing at how unfunny it is 

TG: my jaw hurts so much from all this laughing 

TG: wow

TT: Dave, we’re not done with the talk yet.

TG: no 

TG: no 

TG: no 

TG: were done 

TG: we are so fucking done

TT: There’s this thing you have to put over your raging meat porker.

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] blocked timaeusTestified [TT] \--

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering timaeusTestified [TT] at 15:55 --

Bro is a fucking asshole.

That is what he is.

After about an hour of being holed up in your room, your stomach complains and you finally relent. When you slink out and go to the kitchen, you find a plate of sandwiches waiting for you. Did you mention how nice it was having John as a flat mate? Because this- this right here. This plate of sandwiches, is heaven. As you eat, wondering how on earth John can make things like sandwiches, of all things, taste akin to the food of gods, you decide to check out your brother’s tip later. The job one. Not the other one. This job thing might actually be the solution you've been looking for.

When you finish eating, you notice that John is nowhere to be seen. You check the couch and some of the kitchen cabinets- just in case he’s hiding and trying to surprise you. He never did get over the fact that you scared him. When your search turns out pointless, you wonder if he left the apartment again. He sometimes did that- claiming that he forgot that some random place had a sale or something. You’re pretty sure that if you didn’t limit the days he went out grocery shopping you’d have an _entire_ kitchen full of food. Even the fridge would be filled. The idea is still too foreign and abnormal for you- no matter what John insists.

Glancing at your phone, you check the time and decide to sit on the couch to waste time and watch shit on the TV- like the productive person you are. You’ll find the club later at night, you guess. After a while it begins to rain lightly outside. Soon it develops into a full out gale- complete with the wind blowing at the force of a small tornado and rattling the window panes. For a while, you listen as the rain does its utmost best to break through the glass and watch the trees waver under the onslaught of water and wind. It always fascinates you when it rains, seeing as it was a rather rare phenomenon in Texas.

Before long, you begin to wonder where John is and whether or not he brought an umbrella- since he chose to walk pretty much everywhere. As the storm continuously hurls buckets of water against the windows and lightning flashes, you make up your mind- John is definitely stranded in some godforsaken supermarket and you’re going to have to get him.

Needless to say, you are not expecting the apartment door to swing open less than five seconds after you’ve made your decision.

You are also not expecting to see John standing there, drenched from head to toe.

Okay, maybe the part about him being drenched was to be expected.

But you definitely did not think that he’d pull the ‘soaked in rain look’ off so well.

“Hey, Dave! Nice to see that you’re finally out!” He cheerfully quips while he closes the door behind him, struggling a bit against the wind. He grimaces slightly when his sneakers squelch every step he takes. You are busy staring at him. You know you should probably help him but, internally, your brain is going into full overdrive. Today is not the day to be wearing white t-shirts, John. Don’t you know that shit becomes transparent when wet? Oh my fucking god- stop looking so damn irresistible all the time. No. John. Stop. Stop. Why are you grabbing the edge of your shirt? Don’t you dare lift it up. Don’t. John. John fucking Egbert. You cannot take your shirt off right now. That is a bad idea. A terrible idea. For me. I mean, not that I _don’t_ want you to take it off. I just- fuck. Fuck. Don’t do it. John.

John, ever oblivious to your inner dilemma, takes off his shirt.

Oh sweet fucking baby Jesus.

He also takes off his shoes but you’re more preoccupied with the fact that he is now shirtless. Damn, John has a mighty fine back- those are some nice muscles, lean and toned. His shoulder bones don’t jut out either- they gracefully curve out, and sink elegantly into his back. He’s definitely not bony. He’s not too ripped though, just pretty fucking good looking. And holy shit, you should not be seeing all this skin. It does things to your imagination. Bad things. Wow. Also when did it get so fucking warm? And shit- today was a horrible day to be sporting boxers. You guess you should be thankful that it’s only his back that you can see.

Of course, John decides to rip this small miracle away from you. By turning around.

You flash step to John’s room, grab a towel hanging on his chair and flash step back to throw it over him. All while avoiding the urge to look at him. Fuck yeah. John makes a muffled noise of surprise and you proceed to smother him with the towel and attempt to dry his head. Thank god the towel covers up most of John. Because goddammit you cannot let the last bit of your voice of reason crumble to pieces. And if John walks around there will be puddles all over the place- terrible safety hazards, what with all the slipping and sliding they could cause. Yes- that is a perfectly reasonable thing to prevent.

“Ow- Dave- stop! My glasses!” John cries from underneath the towel. He wiggles around from underneath your vigorous toweling, desperately trying to get loose. “No can do Egderp- you’re gonna catch a cold or something from being this wet. Plus, if you walk around you’re going to leave a trail of potential danger for some unlucky shit- AKA me or you.” John stops squirming for about two seconds, probably mulling over what you just said, before continuing his attempts of freeing himself. You sigh and then continue the arduous task of drying his hair, ignoring the stifled stream of complaints coming from under the towel.

When you finally deem John’s head sufficiently dried, you return to your seat on the couch. He can dry the rest of himself off, you reason. Personally, you still need some time to recover from his earlier stunt. You grab a stray cushion from the sofa and dump it on your lap. John is probably glaring indignantly at the back of your head right now. He gives an annoyed little huff before you hear the sound of something being unzipped. This is followed by the telltale flop of wet clothes being discarded on the floor. Oh shit. That better not be footsteps coming your way. Fuck. They definitely are coming your way. Damn you John.

John, however, ignores your silent warnings and decides to sit right next to you- with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. He doesn’t sit on the opposite end of the sofa either- he has to sit right fucking _next_ to you. “Whoa, John- can’t a man have a little personal space around here?” you say, in a last, futile attempt to conserve your fleeting self control. It comes out a little less laid back than you wanted but still sounds normal enough. You hope. “Wow Dave. Like you didn’t just totally invade my personal space a couple minutes ago.” He sarcastically replies back. You kind of wish he didn’t word it like that- your brain is taking it the wrong way. Picking up non-existent innuendos- that’s its mission for today. Did you mention that it was a bad idea to be wearing boxers? Beside you, John crosses his arms and lets out a small, displeased noise. He is definitely pouting right now. Oh god, you cannot deal with a pouty faced John right now.

After a couple minutes, which you spend frantically trying to piece together your fading self restraint, John mutters something under his breath and drops his head on the pillow in your lap. You’re pretty sure you heard him call you an idiot. You decide, against your better judgment, to look down at him- and any snarky comment you had in mind dies. Because when he looks up at you, all defenseless and still so unbelievably adorably seductive when he’s annoyed, all your common sense deserts you and waltzes away on some impromptu holiday.

You’re not quite sure how it happens, but you suddenly find yourself on top of John- only inches away from his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pesterlogs are impossible. Sorry it turned out a bit longer than I thought it would be.  
> Also, I don't know how to Bro. I just don't.  
> So yeah, hope it turned out fine in the end.  
> Thanks for sticking around!


	4. Surprises come in 3's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's POV of the day.

Well.

This is a surprise you guess?

Wow.

Uhm.

Yeah.

You look up at Dave and see your reflection in Dave’s sunglasses. Raindrops pelt themselves against the windowpanes and thunder claps loudly outside. They sound very far away right now. Very, _very_ far away right now.

What’s not very far away right now is Dave- he’s actually quite the opposite. Like, wow, he’s really close! Close enough for you to see your startled face reflected back at you on twin glossy, black surfaces.

Yeah.

Did you mention that Dave was really close?

Because that is a thing.

That you really need to mention.

Did you also forget to mention that you’re definitely not freaking out right now?

Because you totally are not.

Of course not.

You blink, as if it might change something.

Nothing happens.

How about we take a look at what happened before this. What happened quite a while ago, actually.

After Dave wordlessly passed by you and holed himself up in his room, you waited around for about ten minutes before getting bored. So you cleaned up the glittery mess- courtesy one Bro Strider, and put all the stuff you bought into their respectful places. You’ve learned not to leave it up to Dave, since he clearly thought everything belonged in the fridge- more specifically, stacked up in one corner of the fridge. When you asked him why, he mumbled vaguely about swords and that he was saving space.

Then you waited a long, _long_ time to see if Dave would emerge from his den and explain. When your two minute long wait yielded no rewards, you decided you’d go back out to check for that sale on eggs that one supermarket had. What? Two minutes was totally a long time! And sales don’t wait.

So you slipped your phone into your back pocket and locked the apartment door behind you. As you walked out of the apartment building, enjoying the feel of the breeze through your hair, you wondered what Dave’s older brother had written- it’s not often that Dave panics that much. Whatever it was, it must have been pretty effective, seeing as he was practically dumbstruck for several minutes. You kind of hope that he’ll tell you what happened when you get back. Maybe you can wheedle it out of him later. He was particularly weak against your puppy dog eyes.

As you walk along the shaded sidewalk, your mind drifts back to Dave. He’s a really cool guy, and you’re really happy that you finally get to see him and be around him all the time. You’ve learned a lot more about him after a week- stuff you’re sure he probably would have never told you about. Probably because he thinks they’re dreadfully unironic and uncool. You really don’t mind- they’re just so… Dave. You’re glad that you’ve gotten the chance to really get to know about him.

Plus, you’ve found out a lot of unexpectedly adorable traits to him- like how he practically worships any sort of food you make, is surprisingly picky about buying things (other than junk food), how he insists on sleeping until noon, how he does that teeny, smug grin whenever he’s pleased, his long winded metaphors on the strangest topics, the way he tries to seem reluctant about physical contact (though he has no qualms about teasing you- damn you Dave!), and how he actually lets his default poker face drop around you- albeit only rarely. You actually enjoy when you get him to genuinely smile- because, wow, Dave has a really nice smile!

You are interrupted from your thoughts by the buzzing of your phone. You take it out and see that you have a couple messages from Jade. You open them up and look at them.

Jade: john!!!  
Jade: me and rose are going to come over later!!! :D  
Jade: expect us around… later!!  
Jade: sorry, i cant really narrow down the exact time.  
Jade: but you guys should be ready because we could strike anytime!!!  
Jade: >:D

Oh cool! You can’t wait until they come over! You’ll have to tell Dave about it first though- he probably needs to put some pants on before they come. Should you text him? Oh wait- you’ll just let it be a surprise! You’ll probably tell him right when they knock on the door. Hehehe, you can just imagine how he’ll scramble to get to his room. Or… he might just decide to not wear any pants- but, you’d rather not dwell on that small chance. Either way, he’s definitely in for a big surprise!

You quickly text back an answer.

John: way cool!  
John: oh, and don’t tell dave.  
John: i want you guys to surprise him!

Jade answers a second later.

Jade: okay!!  
Jade: i was going to ask you to tell him actually.  
Jade: this is going to be the best surprise hes ever going to get!!! :D

You grin. Jade is the best! You’re definitely going to tell her in person when she comes over later. You slip your phone back into your pocket and continue onwards toward your destination. You don’t mind walking to places- Dave said you were lame and that you’d regret it during the winter or if it suddenly hailed and you got back at him by hiding his car keys for two days- he stopped mentioning it after that. Another gust of wind rustles the leaves of the trees above you and you glance up, the sky is starting to darken and you can see a large cloud starting to creep across the blue. You speed up- hopefully it won’t start raining until after you’re finished.

When you reach the supermarket you find that all the eggs have been bought. Well, you did say that sales waited for no one. You’re not too disappointed though, the saleslady assured you that they’d have another one tomorrow at the same time. Maybe you’ll ask Dave to drive you here next time. On your way back, the first drops of rain begin to sprinkle down. It’s pretty gentle, so you continue walking home through the light shower of rain. Soon it develops into a lively storm and the wind gusts around, tearing a couple leaves and twigs from the trees surrounding you. You’re now struggling to walk against the onslaught of wind and the veritable waterfall that pours steadily from the dark storm clouds.

At least it’s warm rain, you optimistically think.

Dave is probably going to make some snide comment when you come back waterlogged.

Well, you can always steal his keys again!

You are thoroughly soaked to your shoes and the only reason you haven’t stopped is because you know you’re only a couple minutes away from the apartment. When you finally reach the apartment building, the wind is howling and ripping its way through the greenery and you can see the slant of the rain because of its force. A fork of lightning pierces through the black rainclouds and lights the sky up. A few seconds later, the distant echo of thunder rolls across the heavens. You stop by the stairs and decide to try squeezing the water from your shirt. Wow, John, today was a lousy day to forget an umbrella, you think to yourself as you attempt to wring dry the most of your t-shirt.

When you’ve sufficiently squeezed most of the rainwater out from the corners of your shirt, you walk up the stairs and try to ignore the wet squelch of your sneakers on every step. Your damp clothes stick uncomfortably to you and by the time you’ve reached your apartment you can’t wait to get rid of them. As you open the door, you hardly can feel your phone in your pocket- your jeans are that drenched. You see Dave on the couch watching TV and he turns to look at you. Judging from how normal he’s acting, you guess whatever happened earlier was just his older brother being ironic-ish and trying to keep him on his toes or… something.

Probably?

You’re not quite sure how the Strider household works exactly- and you’re never sure whether Dave is joking or actually being serious when he tells you bits and pieces of it.

He couldn’t really have fireworks in the dishwasher, could he?

“Hey, Dave! Nice to see that you’re finally out!” you cheerfully say, as you close and lock the door behind you- not without some difficulty due to the blustery wind. You’ve honestly never felt happier to be back home, where you can finally dry off. As you walk towards the kitchen, you grimace because of the wet slosh you feel inside your shoes. Well, now would be a great time rid yourself of your shirt. Dave won’t mind, you guess- he’s the one in boxers after all.

Speaking of him- from the corner of your eyes you see Dave still looking in your direction. Well, maybe he’s looking at all the puddles that are forming on the floor because of you. Turning your back to him, you quell the sudden feeling of self-consciousness that rises, and proceed to yank the soaked shirt off of you. Then you kick off your soggy shoes. As you revel in the feeling of finally ridding yourself of these sopping wet articles, you wonder absentmindedly what you should make for dinner. So you turn around to ask Dave.

And get a face full of towel.

You are more than a little surprised- and you may have let out a small, startled yelp.

But that’s perfectly justifiable! How on earth did a towel appear out of thin air?

The answer to your question comes in the form of someone attempting to smother you to death with the towel. Dave? Well, obviously! Apparently he’s quite new to the delicate technique of drying someone off- with the way he’s doing it he might as well be trying to remove a particularly persistent stain on a table or something. And gee, did you mention that Dave was a lot stronger than he looked?

“Ow- Dave- stop! My glasses!” you exclaim and twist about, in an attempt to protest. “No can do Egderp- you’re gonna catch a cold or something from being this wet. Plus, if you walk around you’re going to leave a trail of potential danger for some unlucky shit, AKA me or you.” Dave’s voice replies back, from somewhere above you. Okay, he’s a _little_ taller than you- but you’re still growing! Then you pause, because… he does have a point. But he’s also trying to eliminate your head from existence. You go back to trying to escape. You hear Dave sigh and uh- you did not realize he was that close.

I mean- of course he’s nearby, he’s trying to eradicate your head!

Since Dave has a grip of steel, you settle for complaining as he insists on ‘drying’ your hair. It helps distract you- albeit only slightly. After a few minutes of this, he leaves- just as suddenly as he appeared. With a towel. Your towel. How did he even do that? You drag the towel off your head and see Dave sitting back on the sofa- as if he’d never moved. You glare indignantly at the back of his head for a while before realizing that he actually helped you. Well, sort of helped. And that’s kind of… sweet of him, you guess? You let out an exasperated huff of air- you can’t even be mad at him now. Because Dave had strangely endearing, awkward ways of expressing care. Ugh. Now you feel bad for glaring at him!

Why is he so adorable?

And so totally clueless?

So you take off the last, wet articles of clothing left on your person and drop them on the floor. Then you wrap the towel around your waist, and walk over to sit beside him. He has a cushion on his lap and is facing the TV. You know he’s paying attention to you though; he shifts slightly when you sit next to him. Dave is quiet for a moment before he casually says, “Whoa, John- can’t a man have a little personal space around here?”

You give him a look, before replying. Because really? Really, Dave?

“Wow Dave. Like you didn’t just totally invade my personal space a couple minutes ago.”

Then you realize he’s trying to meld himself with the side of the couch. He always sort of stiffens and shrinks away from you when he’s nervous. He usually tries to cover it up though, by acting laid back and aloof, and by using his endless supply of sarcasm to its full potential. You cross your arms and give an irritated sigh- now you’ve made him edgy. That was definitely not what you wanted to do- even if Dave is terribly precious when he’s nervous. However, his choice of defensive action is not streaming non-stop from his mouth right now.

Hold on.

Is Dave- the normally verbose, yet lovable idiot- actually at a loss for words?

Because of you?

Okay, now that’s just way too cute.

You quietly mutter about how he’s such an idiot before flopping your head on the pillow in his lap, because honestly- how does he not know how adorable he’s acting right now? Dave looks down at you and it seems like he’s about to say something.

Next thing you know, he’s on top of you with his face barely an inch away from yours.

And that is how things lead to being what they are now.

With you and Dave being awfully close.

Like, _awfully close_ together.

Yep.

You both stay absolutely still on the couch as rain steadily pours outside.

This gives you some time to calm down.

Frankly, you really needed to do that.

Okay- first things first.

Breathing.

That is a thing you need to do.

Yes.

You are making that happen… now.

Okay… now.

Um… now!

…This time for sure!

Now!

When you remember how to breathe, you decide to calmly assess the circumstances you are in. You are pretty sure that you are anything but calm right now though. You must be so shocked right now that your brain has gone into some sort of false state of calm. As a safety precaution. Anyways, the situation- Dave is on top of you, you are on top of the couch and you both are on the couch. Okay. Wonderful. Wait. You mean not wonderful! This is not wonderful at all!

Oh god, you are the best analyzer in the world- it is you.

Then you see Dave noticeably tense up until he becomes rigid- and you know he’s going to panic.

No, Dave! Don’t freak out!

You ignore that fact that you are a terrible hypocrite- because Dave’s taking rapid little gasps for air now.

And you know.

He’s about to flip the absolute fuck out.

So you lean up and kiss the tip of his nose.

.

.

.

And Dave doesn’t flip the absolute fuck out.

So you gently place your hands on either side of his face and bring his head down so you can kiss his forehead.

And Dave doesn’t flip the absolute fuck out.

He does collapse on top of you though- all his tension dissipating into thin air, leaving him boneless and limp. You let out a small ‘oof!’ at his weight, but you continue laying light kisses over his cheeks, nose and forehead. Then you use one hand to softly brush against the top of his head, fingers lightly stroking through his hair. With your other hand, you gently pat his back in a slow, steady rhythm. You’re not sure when, but you find yourself humming quietly.

Dave is slumped over you, with his head next to yours on the cushion. His face is turned towards you, and, though you can’t see much else beside this, you feel his breathing gradually even out slowly. You lean your forehead against his and search through the tinted glasses for where you assume his eyes are. You both stay together on the couch like this for a while. The storm has subsided into a light drizzle and you can hear the muted sounds of rain falling outside. It’s a pleasant, comforting background noise and you tenderly place a soft kiss on the very tip of Dave’s nose.

He lets out a shaky breath and rolls off of you, towards the backrest of the couch, so that he’s sandwiched between it and you. Then he turns back to you and cautiously brings up a hand- like he wants to touch you but can’t quite convince himself to do so. So you grab his arm and wrap it around your waist. Dave is pleasantly warm, so you snuggle closer to him, humming happily. You tuck your head under his chin and he sighs above you, tightening the arm around you, ever so slightly. Both of you lay side by side on the sofa and listen to the patter of rain and the distant sound of thunder.

You listen to Dave’s heartbeat reverberating through his chest and you nuzzle against him some more. Once you’re sure it has a steady rhythm to it, you feel a small, content smile spread over your face. You are John Egbert- and you have successfully calmed down Dave Strider. It doesn’t get much better than that.

Then you remember that you’re only wearing a towel.

Oh god.

Then Dave speaks.

“Fuck, John. I want you.” He practically growls.

Eeep!

Since your head is on his chest, you can hear the low rumble of his words. And it’s kind of… hot. Temperature wise, temperature wise! Like wow- when did it get so warm?

Dave pulls you nearer to him and now you can clearly hear the erratic beating of his heart- or is it your heart? Oh god, it is your heart isn’t it? Oh god, oh god, oh god. And wow, it’s really, _really_ warm right now! Shouldn’t it be cooler right now? You know, because of the rain? Rain makes things cooler right? Also Dave is really cool! Um, he’s a cool guy! Yeah! So why is he not being cool right now? He’s definitely not being cool right now! He’s like the complete opposite of cool- he’s really, really hot right now!! Temperature wise!

Then you remember something very important.

No, not that you’re only wearing a towel.

I mean- that’s an important fact too.

But this is more important than that.

Because Jade!

And Rose!

Jade and Rose!

As if on cue, you hear a knock from the front door.

Then Jade’s muffled voice drifts through. “John! Dave! We’re here!!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I recall that you guys signed up for the fluff train.  
> Do you see that fluff tag?  
> Take your fluff.  
> Also- Dave kind of ruins that effect.  
> And- more cliffhangers.
> 
> Please don't kill me.  
> Stay tuned for more!


	5. To Expect the Unexpected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jade and Rose come to visit and Dave's attempts to expect the unexpected do not go as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness- sorry for uploading this a day late! Don't you worry though- there's a little bonus for you guys.  
> As always, thanks for reading!

The last things in the world you ever would have expected to happen are as follows:

1\. Having John Egbert kiss your fucking nose to keep you from losing your cool.

2\. No.1 actually working- holy shit, it’s super effective, Dave Strider is calmed.

3\. Having Jade Harley and Rose Lalonde pay you a surprise visit.

In fact, all of them would not even be on your spontaneous ‘last-things-in-the-world-I’d-ever-expect-to-happen’ list in the first place. Because you wouldn’t even have to make the aforementioned shitty list. Or even thought you needed to make one. Fucking hell. What the fuck has happened to your life.

When you heard the knock on the front door, while with one John Egbert on a sofa, followed by the familiar, bubbly voice of one Jade Harley- you knew you were far away from whatever realm of normality you thought you had. Not that you were ever on planet normal to begin with it. More like planet everything-is-batshit-insane. Always expect the unexpected motherfuckers- that’s their motive.

John looks at you and you look back at him.

This has the potential to develop into an extremely awkward staring war.

Then John blinks and opens his mouth.

“Dave, we have a problem.” He says gravely, with a very serious expression on his face.

You wait for him to continue, because suddenly your mouth is dry and you can’t bring yourself to say anything. He takes a deep breath before continuing with the same solemn tone.

“I’m practically naked.”

Well.

That… wasn’t what you were expecting.

Then you realize that John is struggling to maintain a straight face. You raise your eyebrows over the edges of your sunglasses and the corners of John’s mouth twitch up.

“And I’m in need of some pants.” You say back, equally as somber.

Then both of you crack the fuck up. Quietly.

John recovers first and he gets off the couch, still wheezing from his silent laughter, to collect his clothes from the floor. You roll off the couch a second later, and slink away to put pants on. You grab the first pair of pants you see in your room and slip them on. Then you grab a random shirt from your closet and some jeans from John’s room- because you’re considerate. Jade knocks again and you hear her threatening to break down the front door if it doesn’t open within the next three seconds. Judging from the state of the door and what you know of Jade’s strength, you wouldn’t place any bets on the lifespan of the door.

You toss the clothes to him as you walk by and he quickly yanks them on. Like a true gentleman, you make it a point to focus your line of sight directly at the entrance way. It is the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do- because wow, when did the poor door ever look so miserable and flimsy? Good god, you really should get a better one. Your heart is full of sympathy for the shitty door. John lightly taps your shoulder and you start slightly, you were busy being all ‘I-feel-your-pain-front-door’. The feels fest that just went down between the two of you was a bit overwhelming. Not like John in his birthday suit right fucking behind you made you concentrate so hard on the door or anything.

Assuming that the shoulder tap meant he was decent for company, you proceed to open the door with a bow and a classy greeting. “Welcome to the humble abode of Dave Strider and John Egderp- now if you’d stop abusing our sad, worn out door, it would be my pleasure to show you the more favorable highlights of the place.” Jade waits politely until you finish, before launching herself on top of you. You were not wrong about the strength of the fabled Jade Harley- the door would have been no match for your eager guest.

“Whoa Jade- don’t touch the grand masterpiece of the household yet- the Dave Strider is the main attraction.”

“Oh my god!!! It’s so great to see you! And sorry, but who do you think I am?! You should totally show me the best first!!”

After she finishes hugging you, she throws herself at John. Or John throws himself at her- you’re not really sure who does the initial ‘throwing themselves’ first. Both of them are just as excited as the other and they bounce up and down, like kids high on sugar, while happily chattering away at high-speed. You turn from the enthusiastic duo, and see Rose standing by the doorway with a black umbrella neatly folded at her side. Everything about her is neat, perfect and orderly- from her spotless clothes to her stance. Poised and elegant, she runs her eyes over you- and for a split second you feel like you’re some kind of exotic animal she can’t wait to dissect.

Poised, elegant and deadly- just like her namesake.

She gives you a sweet smile before greeting you, “Dave, it has been quite a while, hasn’t it? I trust you’ve been well?” You eye her warily- if anything, you’ve learnt that you needed to be extra careful around her seemingly harmless questions. She’s probably pulling her psychoanalyzing shit right now- and, depending on your answer, she’d find out what you ate for breakfast or if you learned how to play the fucking harmonica yet or something. “What, no heartfelt hug for me Rose? I’m hurt- you’ve pricked me with a million of your invisible thorns.” You choose to say instead, “I know I’m too dazzlingly handsome here- Strider genes and all, but you don’t have to hold yourself back. Just go with the flow.”

“My apologies for insulting your ego, shall I simply swoon now that I’ve been addressed by such a lady killer?”

“Hell yeah, you can do whatever you want- I’ll catch you like the fucking gentleman I am. Don’t worry about how heavy you are- I work out.”

“Oh dear, I do feel the world spinning now. How eloquent you are with your words- no wonder you get all the girls. Such flattery surely has them fainting left and right.”

“Damn right. Just imagine I have a rose or some equally romantic flowery shit clenched between my teeth and some fucking salsa music is playing up a storm as background noise. Complete with all the flower petals falling from the ceiling so it’s like a motherfucking blizzard here.”

“Oh, just hug already!!”

You and Rose turn to the Harley-Egbert combo who have separated and are grinning and watching from inside. You’re pretty sure they both simultaneously said the same thing. You glance at Rose and she looks back, locking her eyes directly with yours behind your shades- dang, your sister is sharp.

“We can’t all be hopping straight into the incestuous filled bag right away like you two do, okay. This is some delicate business here- I might shatter her fragile nerves and then she’ll disown me. You guys up for standing in court as witnesses while the Lalondes press charges against me? Am I right, or am I _right_ , Rose?”

Rose catches on easily- she’s cool like that.

“Indeed, Dave is so tactlessly idiotic one might even question the fact that he was even related to me. It does seem to come quite naturally to him, so I would not be surprised by anyone’s misgivings.”

Okay, you take that back- Rose is evil.

Jade giggles and John tries, unsuccessfully, to muffle his laughter. Your friends are evil. Then Rose gently squeezes your arm, almost affectionately, and walks past you into the apartment. You’d like to assume it was an apologetic gesture- Rose and you are not exactly fantastic at expressing your emotions. However, it might have just as easily been a ‘let’s get in because it is fucking wet out here’ gesture as well. Thinking it over carefully, you’re more inclined to think it was the latter. You get back at her by walking past her and ruffling her hair, messing it up thoroughly.

John closes the door behind you and Jade bounces eagerly beside you. “Ladies, please. Gather around, the exclusive tour of the Egbert-Strider pad is now commencing.” You announce with another exaggerated bow, “Please remember to stay with your buddy at all times, we will not be held responsible for missing kids. Lost or unattended children will be eaten- you have been warned.” You offer your arm to Jade and she laughs and links her arm with yours. John and Rose are similarly paired and they stand behind you expectantly.

“Well lead away Dave!” John pipes up cheerfully from behind you and you lead them to the kitchen. “Behold John Egbert’s exclusive magical forge. It is here that he mixes ingredients using mysterious charms and relics to make heaven appear on earth in the form of food. To cut straight to the point- it’s a kitchen. End of story. And yes, you may snap pictures of this beauty.” You wave your hand and bring your tiny group over to the living room.

John speaks this time, waving his free arm dramatically around while he talks. “This is the totally awesome living room! There’s the TV, the coffee table and the… couch!” You notice the slight pause and see John avert his eyes quickly from you to the couch. “It’s pretty old but it can withstand the combined weight of both of us! So I think it’s good! Okay next stop now!” he quickly says before ushering you guys into the hallway. And maybe you’re being a bit paranoid, but you’re pretty sure you saw Rose give you a strange look as she passed you. Hopefully it was just a trick of the light.

When you finally finish the grand tour of your apartment, everyone gathers back in the living room. “You guys don’t have many chairs do you?” Jade remarks as she sits down on the sofa. “Well there’s plenty of space on the floor- why would anyone bother wasting money on buying chairs?” You reply dryly, as you take a seat next to her. Rose and John went into the kitchen to cook dinner, and both of you were banned from the kitchen after trying to help. Personally, you didn’t understand why- it wasn’t your fault the kitchen knives were so thin and breakable. And Jade kept throwing the vegetables too hard.

You and Jade decide to catch up with each other, while John and Rose do their wizardry in the kitchen. Occasionally you hear snatches of muffled conversation from the kitchen, but you can never quite make out what they are saying. You lean your head back further along the sofa. You are not eavesdropping at all- they just talk too loud. And you’re just getting more comfortable. Jade snaps her fingers and you look back at her. “Uh huh, fascinating.” you say as you nod your head slightly. She lightly hits your shoulder, “I was asking you a question Dave- ‘uh huh, fascinating’ is not a valid answer, you know.”

“It is too.” You say, being the remarkably mature and cool person you are.

“Is not.” She answers.

“Is too.”

“Is not!”

“Is too- end of argument Jade. I win, you lose.”

Jade crosses her arms in mock annoyance, before tilting her head to the side thoughtfully. “Dave, do you like John?” She suddenly asks. Or maybe she decided to repeat the question she asked earlier. If she did, then she was right about you not answering it. “Yeah, I like him- why the hell else would I be living with him? Why- you jealous of the beautiful bromance we got running here? Cuz, damn Jade- I never figured you’d want in on it too. It’s okay though, I’ll extend the bromanshiphood to you too. I’m not a heartless bastard like other people are. Gender doesn’t matter- come, let us welcome you into the arms of the brohood.” You hold your arms out wide and Jade laughs and whacks you with a couch pillow. Ouch.

“You know what I mean Dave!” she says, after putting down the cushion. You deadpan and say, “No, I’m afraid I don’t. By the way, I’ll just let you know you refused the offer of a lifetime. You just missed the lottery ticket to broship. That ship has sailed, and you fucking sent it off with a couch pillow. That’s the Jade Harley style of refusal isn’t it.” She rolls her eyes, “You guys are _so_ stubborn! I swear to god, even getting Rose to talk about her feelings isn’t this hard.” It takes a moment for you to process that, partly because she mentioned ‘guys’, and also because she just mentioned ‘Rose’ and ‘feelings’ in the same sentence. You focus more on the latter.

“Hold on- what? Rose has emotions? And she talked about her feelings? Oh my god, call the fucking press- this shit needs to be printed and published ASAP. This is a moment to be remembered throughout history- they’re going to call it the Rose Uncovered event. Because that is some life changing shi-“ You are interrupted by Rose whacking you on the head with a plate. Ouch. What is it with all the whacking today?

“Did you say something Dave?” she says, smiling ominously down at you with a plate in one hand and four spoons in the other. You have never seen spoons look so dangerous. Seriously though- Rose could make things like cotton candy or baby rattles look like potential murder weapons. “He was just going to answer my question- right Dave?” Jade says, looking at you expectantly. Dammit, this is going in a very bad direction. “Oh? What question, do feel free to enlighten me, Jade.” Rose says, walking around the sofa to place the plate and spoons down on the coffee table. Somehow, the lack of objects in her hands doesn’t make you feel any safer.

She sits down on your other side and crosses her hands over her lap, looking at you with a sort of gleam in her eye. “About who he likes of course! You know, like a _certain_ person he’s with all the time!!” Jade happily explains, bouncing a little in her seat. And no- you were definitely not imagining that hungry gleam in Rose’s eye. Oh fuck. “That is a very interesting topic indeed, Dave. I would like to hear your answer on this subject as well.” She says lightly. Jade nods her head enthusiastically in agreement from the other side of you. Now you have no idea what to do- you are effectively sandwiched between two very determined girls. Goddammit, this is terrible situation you are in.

So you abscond.

Towards the kitchen.

Where the person the whole conversation was about is.

Because you are a fucking genius.

“Sup John, I’m just going to chill with you right now. I think the ladies have had enough time exposed to the Strider looks and are getting a bit overwhelmed.” You say as you casually inch yourself out of their line of sight. John watches as you stand in front of the fridge and lean your back on it. “Okay, just try not to break anymore knives while you’re here.” He replies, shooting you a small grin while he continues stirring whatever he and Rose made. Your heart did not just attempt to imitate a butterfly when he did that. It did not.

“Rose said they’re going to leave after dinner,” John says as he turns off the stove, “but they just arrived though! I said they could stay over if they wanted but she refused.” You let out a quiet sigh of relief- they would have eventually managed to corner you if they stayed. “Hey Dave?” he asks, and you look back at him. “Can you bring the stew to the table? I have to get something from my room really quick.” He shifts slightly and hands you the oven mitts.

Oh hell no- there are dangerous beings waiting for you out in the living room. It is a wise choice to not face them alone. “I don’t think I can handle the wild fangirling that’s going to ensue when I go out there again. What do you need to get, Egderp? I’ll get it for you- unless it’s one of your lame ass movies.” He glances up at you quickly and then looks down again.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll get it.”

“But I insist.”

“No, you don’t.”

“John it’s okay- let me do it.”

“No.”

You can’t help but notice how he avoids looking at your face for long, so you grab his hand. He starts violently and you drop his hand like it burned you. Oh. Before your brain can unleash the torrent of negative thoughts you’ve gathered, John has pushed you up against the fridge. And the unexpected closeness of his general being effectively shuts up your brain.

You look down at him and see him blushing furiously. If your brain hadn’t already shutdown, it definitely would have done so after seeing that. As it is, the only thing you manage to say is a highly eloquent, “…Uh?” which doesn’t even count as a word. “Oh my god Dave, you idiot! You didn’t give me any underwear!” he whispers quietly. Oh.

Well.

You didn’t did you.

Yeah.

You end up taking the stew to the table.

Rose and Jade eye you, like starving carnivores would look at a particularly prime piece of meat, while you set the pot down. You resist the urge to dash back to the kitchen to get the bowls, and manage to casually stride back to the kitchen to get the necessary items. By the time you come back, John is sitting down and talking happily to them. Deeming it safe, you return to the table with the bowls. “Finally Dave! You sure took your time getting here!!” Jade says as she leaps off the sofa to sit on the floor. “Yes Dave, I believe we had a question which needed answering.” Rose says as she sits down next to Jade by the table. John looks confused and he turns from you to your friends. “What question?”

“Where I’m going later to get a job is the question.” You reply. The resulting effect on everyone’s face is priceless. Rose is looking at you in disbelief- like she’s not quite sure you’re telling the truth, or trying to deliberately change the topic with a bluff. Jade and John wear matching expressions of shock, though John’s mouth is hanging open and Jade’s is in the perfect shape of an ‘o’. You smirk, before taking a seat next to John. “Wow guys, I don’t know whether I should be upset you aren’t all congratulating me for finding a job, or if I should be happy that you guys aren’t bombarding me with a fuck ton of questions right now.” Then you ladle out some stew into your bowl.

“Oh my god, really Dave?!” Jade says, grabbing the ladle when you’re finished and pouring the food into her bowl. “Yeah Dave,” John follows, a split second later, “I thought you were locked in your room being the opposite of productive or something! What’s the job?” Rose is last in line for the question marathon, still staring at you suspiciously. “And where might you have found the information regarding this… future occupation of yours?” You pass her a bowl of stew and she takes it, still looking at you doubtfully.

“Got a tip from Bro saying that there was a guy who needed a DJ for his club around here. So I decided to go check it out after this.” You say before digging into your food. John looks at you thoughtfully before saying, “Oh, I think I remember hearing about a club nearby… Um, I think it’s called The Red Apple or something?” Well, now you know why Bro suggested it. “Wow, that’s a cool name!” Jade says, before adding, “And gosh, this stuff tastes amazing!!” You see Rose smile almost fondly at Jade before she continues eating.

When you all finish dinner and clear everything up, Jade announces that they have to go. She tackles you and John into a group hug and, after some coaxing from the Egbert-Harley duo, Rose reluctantly joins. They are quite a formidable combination with their puppy dog eyes- you don’t blame Rose for caving in after a few minutes, that shit is some powerful stuff. “Don’t you guys miss us too much okay? Because we’ll be visiting again soon!! Next time we’ll spend more time!!” Jade says excitedly, as all of your heads bump together. “Sure thing Jade- though next time I’d like a fair warning before you end up on the doorstep, hurling death threats at the innocent front door.” You say and John and Jade burst out laughing.

You actually don’t mind being in squashed in the uncomfortable four-person group hug, if it means that you can be next to John when he laughs. John is wonderful when he laughs- and you find yourself wishing you could hear it more often. You let a small, genuine smile break through your stoic expression as they jostle everyone while they laugh. You catch Rose with a similar expression on her face as John and Jade try to outdo each other with extravagant farewells. After five minutes, they decide on a draw- partly because Rose reassures them that they’ll see each other in less than a week, and the group hug ends.

You and John see them off at the doorway, and John and Jade wave wildly at each other until the girls disappear down the stairs. He whacks you on the head when you comment on him overreacting. Ouch. Today is officially whack-a-Dave day apparently. “Aw man, I can’t wait until we see them again.” John says, while you close the door. You are about to say something, but then John continues. “Oh, but now I’ve got you _all_ _to myself_.” And he freaking _purrs_ out the last bit of his sentence.

Holy shit.

What.

You turn around to look at John and no- apparently you did not imagine that last bit. He presses closer to you until your back bumps against the front door. Then he places his hands on the door, on either side of you, and smiles- and it’s not the normal ‘I-am-a-lovable-dork’ smile. This smile is almost predator like. And you’re the prey. Holy shit. That’s really fucking ho- totally not thinking that. Nope. You try to back away further but the goddamn door is already there. You are effectively cornered.

John looks up at you and fuck- that’s way hotter than you expected. The intensity of his gaze is nearly hypnotic. You are very aware of the fact that your heart is hammering away at your ribcage- if this goes on any longer, it will eventually win the war against your fragile ribs. It will just be all, ‘haha, Dave- eat my imaginary heart dust’ when it breaks out. And that was a really lame metaphor. Damn it. Just. Damn it all.

John leans his head towards the crook of your neck and lets his head rest there. Fucking hell. You can feel his breath on your neck and you’re sure he can feel your pulse beating wildly. “Didn’t you say something about ‘unattended children’ being eaten?” he murmurs into your neck. Oh fuuuuck. You are not thinking about how warm it is now. Nope. Nope. Not at all. And you are most definitely not feeling the heat forming in your cheeks right now.

In your head, your mind is running nonstop- churning out jumbled strings of nonsense like, ‘holyfuckinghellyesisaidthatohmygodididwaitnonoholyshitthatshotwaitnofuck’. But you forgive yourself for that- because you really cannot cope with thinking normally under these conditions. In fact, nobody would be able to think straight if they were in this situation. Unless they were immune to unnaturally sexy, John Egbert’s. Which no one is. At least- definitely not you.

Then John tilts his head up and whispers right into your fucking ear, “But Dave, don’t you have somewhere to go?”

And woah, did you really have somewhere to go? Yes. Yes, you fucking did. A miniscule piece of your mind that survived, lights up and you remember- you had a job. Thing. A job thing. That you really needed to get to. Yeah. ASAP. And all that shit. So, yeah. You’re just going to go now. Yes. After going to the bedroom. Your bedroom. To fu- to get your fucking car keys. Actually- fuck that. No, no, no- not John. Not fucking John. Wait- dammit you didn’t mean it that way. Nope. Nope. You’ll fucking walk. You will walk the whole goddamn way there.

John leans back from you and removes his hands from the door. The second his arms are gone from their position, you grab the doorknob and twist it. “I’mma have to go right now. See ya.” You blurt out rapidly before pushing the door open. You slip out as fast as you fucking can, close the goddamn door quickly behind you, and abscond the flying fuck out of there.

You only stop when you reach the sidewalk outside the shopping district. Pausing to catch your breath, you ignore the curious stares you get while you bend over with your hands on your knees, gasping for air, in the middle of the path. When you finally recover, you straighten up and rake a hand haphazardly through your hair. Then you put your hands in your pockets and casually stride through the crowd, like the cool guy you are. Even if you seem calm and collected on the outside, inwardly your thoughts are racing. One thought in particular, circles endlessly through your mind.

What the hell are you going to do when you go back?

* >>> ~~

The door clicks shut, and you feel like the cat that got the cream. Dave is really fun to tease. He’s just too adorable for you not to try anything! And you like making him blush. He’s so cute when he goes pink. It’s actually incredibly amusing when he gets all flustered- because that’s when he really drops the coolkid façade. And wow, he definitely just let his southern accent slip out. Hehe, Dave is such a dork!

And an idiot.

A lovable idiot.

That you can’t get enough of.

Okay, to be completely honest, maybe you did have a few ulterior motives in mind when you asked him to share the apartment with you. What? You’re not exactly a pure-hearted innocent angel!

And neither is Dave.

But he’s awfully oblivious.

And an idiot.

Bluh.

Now what the hell are you going to do when he gets back?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, there is actually a pub with the name The Red Apple- please don't sue me for using their name.  
> Yep.  
> Till next time then.


	6. The Delicate Art of Ambushing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If the first plan doesn't work out there's always the back up plan.  
> Plan B everyone- get ready for Plan B.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update again!

You have officially decided that something must be done.

About Dave.

And it must be done as soon as possible.

The next day, Dave is somewhat guarded around you. He informed you briefly that he was now employed, and then locked himself in his room for the rest of the day. When you managed to get him out to eat meals, he wolfed them down in seconds and then hastily returned back into his lair. At first, you assumed it was because he was busy preparing for his job or something, so you busied yourself with other things- like the growing pile of dirty clothes in your room and some free online courses you found. And Dave never poked so much as a toe out his door- until ten at night, which is when he silently slipped out the front door to go work.

He came back at around two in the morning, and you woke up because you heard the bathroom door slam. However, when you blearily poked your head out from your bedroom, you only caught a glimpse of him disappearing back into his room. You thought nothing of it- because hey, he was probably pretty excited about this job! So you didn’t think too much about his strange behavior for that day.

The next two days went by pretty much the same. You grew more than a little concerned at how withdrawn he was becoming. Whenever you tried asking him about it, he casually replied with dismissive comments like, ‘nah, don’t worry about it man’ or ‘it’s not your fault dude’ etcetera, more variations of that, etc. In fact, he went to great lengths to assure you that it was 100%, definitely _not_ your fault. Then after all that, he proceeds to retreat back into to his bedroom for the rest of eternity.

Needless to say, you’re not very convinced.

You’ve also noticed that now he practically tiptoes around you- like you’ve magically turned into a ticking time bomb or something equally as dangerous. It would actually be pretty funny- if not for the fact that you were genuinely worried that it was because you did something wrong. Once, you walked into the kitchen at night for a glass of water, and he was in front of the fridge drinking apple juice. He jumped a little, nearly choked on his drink, and was clearly uncomfortable when he saw you. Then you blinked and he was gone. You heard a door in the hallway close shortly afterwards.

…Okay? It was almost as if he was afraid of you- which is silly. Because this is Dave Strider we’re talking about here! There’s no way he’d be scared of you!

But, he could always be really annoyed or mad at you. Which you really should apologize for.

So you do.

And after that he begins to avoid you like the plague.

However, he still insists that he’s fine (through his bedroom door), and that it isn’t because of you, you were just over-thinking things- yada yada. Now you rarely see him come out of his room- except when he leaves the apartment at night. Which he somehow manages to do without you noticing. Every time. Every single god damn time. Eventually, it became sort of like you were living with the invisible man. The hungry invisible man. All in all, he was acting really weird.

Well, weirder than normal.

So you have decided to solve the mystery behind his abnormal behavior once and for all.

That is why you are hiding under his bed right now. And this is perfectly justifiable. Explainable. Yeah. Because you are going to ambush him when he comes back from work. Yeah, that’s what you are going to do. All according to the plan. It also has to be in his room- because last time you tried from the sofa and all you ended up doing was watching the front door swing shut. Less than a second later you heard Dave’s bedroom door close. Stupid flashstepping thing.

Anyways, this time you are prepared to use any and every method necessary to get him to spill the beans. You’re even willing to hold all the apple juice in the fridge hostage- that’s how determined you are. And it is going to be great leverage over him. This may not be the most normal way to do things, but you’ve already tried talking/apologizing to him and, well, that turned out _great_. So on to Plan B it is.

You are the mastermind of all great plans.

It is you.

Luckily, you are small enough to fit underneath the bed (but still growing). Albeit, not too comfortably (you’re still growing) - because it is seriously tiny under there (and you’re still growing). There is a trap set to be triggered by the front door opening, which will alert you to when he comes back. It is also loud enough to wake you up- just in case you accidentally nod off. You have positioned yourself so that you can easily slide out from under the bed and launch yourself onto Dave. Now all that’s left to do is wait for Dave to get back. Which will be anytime around… uh, around now-ish.

This is a hundred percent, the best plan ever.

Suddenly, you hear the air horn sound from the entrance way. It is abruptly cut short, and you soon hear Dave’s footsteps approach his bedroom. Oh, yes. This is going to be great. You grin evilly, and wait for the door to swing open. It does, and you see Dave’s feet walk in. Oh my god, he doesn’t suspect a thing. Hehe. You prepare to shimmy out from under the bed and surprise him- only to find that you can’t.

Oh.

Well, this might be a bit of a… problem.

Unfortunately, you never suspected that there could be potential drawbacks to squeezing yourself into tiny places for extended lengths of time. Say for around about… two hours. You bang your head against the floor, quietly, and will some strength into your numb limbs. Obviously, the person who said, ‘if you believe enough in something, you can achieve it’ was a big, fat liar. Just saying. Because you just proved that saying wrong. And you really wish you didn’t.

Dave must be pretty tired today, because he fails to notice you under his bed, and he collapses almost immediately on top of it. He doesn’t even switch the lights on in his room. The bed frame shakes and slightly dips down underneath him- leaving you with an even smaller amount of space. Great. This plan was definitely a lot easier in your head. You sigh softly, and try to flatten yourself down a bit more. Apparently you didn’t breathe out as quietly as you thought, nor was Dave quite as tired as you had assumed- because suddenly he starts violently above you.

The bed frame sways a little bit and you clap both your hands over your mouth.

Ohhh my god!

Be still my poor heart. Be still.

You freeze- not even daring to breathe, just in case you make another noise. Go back to sleep Dave, go back to sleep! You chant in your head. He shuffles around on top of the bed for a while and something clicks before you hear him breathe out deeply. Was that a sleepy sigh? It better be a sleepy sigh. Please be a sleepy sigh. Please, please, please. After a couple seconds of listening intently to his breathing pattern, you deem the situation safe. For now.

Okay, once the blood starts flowing properly through your legs, you are going to slip out very, very, _very_ quietly and Dave will never know about anything. Anyways, you can always try again tomorrow- maybe minus the ‘waiting for two hours under the bed’ next time. Yeah, that would probably be for the best. You remove your hands from covering your mouth and very quietly release the breath you had been holding in. Dave jerks suddenly on top of the bed, and you slap your hands back over your mouth.

Oh crap!

“…John?” you hear him ask, almost inaudibly.

Oh craaaap!

No, no. It’s not John. It is definitely not John. John? Psh, who? Haha, he’d never be in your room. Much less be in your room, under your bed. Silly Dave! Go back to bed you worrywart! Back to sleep land for you! Yep! Off to deep, deep slumber right now! Gosh, make that really, _really_ deep sleep!

The bed stand creaks a bit as Dave moves around on top of the bed. Oh god- please be lying down. Please lie down and sleep. Please Dave. You plead silently with him, willing him to go back to sleep. Of course this doesn’t work because he starts talking again.

“I’m going nuts. Yeah. He’s already sleeping. In his room. Wow, Dave- you’re really going crazy. Why the hell would John be in here?”

Oh. Uh. Haha, Dave. Well wouldn’t you be surprised if you knew.

“I mean- not that I wouldn’t want him here. Since…”

…What?

What? Since what?

He trails off and you silently ask him to continue. Because you’re curious. Plus, you haven’t really heard him talk for a while now. Even if you’re not really supposed to be hearing all this. But he’ll never even know that you heard- so it’s kind of the same thing, right? And his voice is really nice! Yeah. So everything is alright. Sort of.

He lets out a long sigh before continuing.

“Fuck. I’m totally cray cray. Battier than Rose and all her emo-goth shiz. Loopy as hell.”

The bed springs squeak above you as he shifts again. You wait for several minutes until you hear relaxed, breathing coming from on top of the bed. You think he’s asleep. It sounds like he fell asleep. Yeah- he’s definitely asleep. But, just to be absolutely sure this time, you wait for at least ten long minutes to pass before uncovering your mouth. Then you make sure to breathe in the quietest, most unnoticeable method as humanly possible- because Dave has incredibly sharp hearing.

When this technique of breathing does not go detected by Dave, you slowly attempt to move your legs. After a while, you manage to regain control of your lower limbs. Then you begin the arduous task of inching your way out from underneath the bed. You deliberately go painstakingly slow and carefully crawl out- going absolutely still whenever you hear the slightest noise from the bed frame or springs. It is extremely nerve-wracking.

Soon enough, the top half of you is free. You slowly push yourself up, so that you’re sitting upright with your legs still under the bed. This position makes it easier for you to slide your legs out from underneath. You are also now facing Dave. Though only the back of him. Thankfully. But this is still going to be pretty difficult. At least after this, all you need to do is get to the door. Ever so carefully, you start to bring your legs out from under the bed.

Then Dave turns toward you.

_Holycrapheheardmeandimsoscrewed!!_

You stare at him, wide-eyed and ready to panic- before realizing that he’s still sleeping. Oh thank god. Whew. You take a moment to calm your jumpy heart before looking back at him. And hey, would you look at that- he’s not wearing his shades! Sleeping Dave without his sunglasses looks incredibly striking. Like wow, he’s really handsome! You can see the pale lashes of his eyes, the curve of his cheekbones, the sharp slant of the bridge of his nose, and all of his freckles. But gosh, he’s amazingly good looking! You think your heart skipped a beat just now- but that was probably because of your nerves.

Yeah.

Definitely the nerves.

Why would he ever want to wear shades all the time? You wonder, before realizing that you’ve unintentionally leaned a bit _too_ near to his face. Um, freckles! Dave sure has a lot of freckles! Wow! Then you quickly move your head back, because what would you do if you accidentally woke him up? That would be terrible. And your legs- still under the bed. That needs to be fixed right away. Then you’ll just tiptoe out of here and everything will be okay.

You place a hand gently on the bottom of the bed frame for support and ease one of your legs out. Okay, one down- one left to go and then- Dave’s arm falls on your hand.

Everything is not okay.

Not okay at all!

Your head snaps back towards his face and you see that his eyes are still closed. Oh. Phew. Way to give yourself a heart attack. When you finally have your entire body out from under the bed, you gently lift Dave’s arm off of your hand and place it back on the bed. You look at him sleeping for a while, before remembering that you were supposed to be escaping. Then you glance back at Dave- because wow, he’s pretty damn attractive. You can’t help but look again, okay.

After a moment of hesitation, you lean down and bump your forehead gently against his. You’re not crazy- you’re crazy good-looking! You think loudly. And yeah, that was kind of cheesy but it’s the truth. Okay, now you’re going to go. Because that was embarrassing. What you just did. Yep.

Then Dave hooks his arm around your neck and pulls you down.

You end up falling down on top of him. And, for some reason, Dave doesn’t wake up. Because apparently, in the event that John crashes down on him, as compared to John breathing quietly under the damn bed- the latter is more likely to wake him up. For some miraculously, inexplicable reason. Then he turns, dragging you onto the bed with him.

You end up draped across his side with your head at an uncomfortable angle. When you try to shift, he rolls again and you get pulled completely on the bed. He loosens the arm around your neck a tiny bit and you manage to get your legs off of him and arrange them until they’re straight beneath you. Now you are lying next to him. Oh god. This was _not_ supposed to happen. Throughout the entire process Dave somehow remains asleep. Honestly, you’re not sure whether you should be annoyed or thankful that he didn’t wake up. Probably a mix of both. But more on the thankful side.

Then you tug at the arm around your neck, testing to see if you can loosen it and free yourself. Dave is still pretty strong in his sleep, but you think you _might_ be able to get out of his grip. As you try to carefully remove his arm from your neck, he wraps his other arm around your middle. Daaave! That is not helping you in the slightest right now! After several attempts at freeing yourself all end up futile, you let out a quiet, exasperated sigh. Fine. You know what? Just- fine. You give up.

Dave makes a tiny happy noise in his sleep.

You glare at him. Though technically, it’s partly your fault too.

…Okay, maybe it’s mostly your fault.

He tightens his hold around you and your gaze softens. Who would have guessed that Dave was actually a sleep hugger? It’s pretty adorable though, seeing as he wasn’t usually affectionate. Only when he was teasing you or stuff, did he actually initiate physical contact. And you kind of missed that since he started avoiding you. Oh yeah, you were supposed to ask him about that. But you can always ask him tomorrow. Right? Right. Okay. For now you’ll just sleep. With him.

Wait- that came out wrong.

You’re going to… sleep in the same, uh… bed as him. And also let him hug you. Yeah. That sounds about right. Sort of. You guess?

…And you know what? You’re going to stop thinking about it and go to sleep.

Also- your heart should really stop trying to turn itself into a hurricane right now.

 

\----

 

You wake up next to… Dave?

Or more accurately, you’re curled up with him.

Somehow, you’ve managed to tangle yourself with him. Your head is resting on his arm, and his other arm is tightly wrapped around your middle. One of his legs is hooked around yours and your arm is draped loosely over his side. The world is somewhat blurry right now too. You blink, squinting hard, and you can vaguely make out the fuzzy outline of a Dave-like head beside you. He’s still asleep and you can feel more than hear him when he gently breaths in and out.

… You’re probably dreaming?

It’s a funny dream but hey, dreams are funny like that!

It’s not a bad dream though, so you snuggle closer to dream Dave.

Wait- wait a minute.

Oh.

Oh!

Oh my god.

Now you remember. Well, this is going to be super awkward when he wakes up. You’re going to have to be all, ‘Hi Dave! I was just hiding under your bed trying to ambush you last night, because you’ve been all weird and everything. And then you ended up dragging me into your bed- so I fell asleep. Sorry about that!’ Yep. That’s going to work perfectly fine.

Damn it.

You are so, so screwed.

Dave mumbles something and squeezes the arm around you, pulling you closer to him. Um. Oh. Your mind goes absolutely blank. Your heart decides that now would be a spectacular time to give you the symptoms of a minor heart attack by speeding up drastically. This leaves you a bit breathless. Okay, calm down John. Calm down.

After several minutes, you decide that you have been sufficiently calmed. So you attempt to wiggle out of Dave’s… grasp. Maybe, if you manage to get out before he wakes up, the whole awkward conversation/explanation thing can be avoided. Yeah, that’s a great idea! With renewed determination, you go back to trying to free yourself.

“Mmno, stay.” Dave murmurs sleepily.

Your look at him quickly, and he exhales softly, eyes still closed. Okay, he’s still sleeping. You think. Then what he said registers in your mind. Oh god. A wave of heat rushes up your neck and you stop squirming. Noo! That is so unfair Dave- you can’t just say things like that! Now you can practically feel how red you’re turning. Inside, your stomach is doing a series of over-enthusiastic flip flops all over the place, and your lungs are having a bit of a malfunction. Curse your traitorous inner organs- you were totally fine a while ago!

Completely oblivious to what he’s putting you through, Dave lets out a rather content, sleepy sigh from above your head. He pulls you snug against him and a tiny little smile tugs the corners of his mouth up- your will melts into a puddle of mush. Damn it. You sigh very quietly, and bury your head into his shirt. Okay, you surrender- you’ll just deal with whatever happens later on then. It’s not like it’s terribly uncomfortable being with him actually- minus your enthusiastic organs of course. So you adjust yourself more comfortably and tuck your head underneath his.

You take this time to let your eyes adjust to the faint light present in the room. Some birds chirp outside the window and you hear the faint sounds of cars driving through the streets. It must be around seven in the morning right now, you suppose- your internal clock usually wakes you up at that time. Dave breathes out softly, and his breath ruffles the top of your hair. When you lean back a bit, you bump against something. Oh, your glasses. They must have fallen off during the night you guess.

When the sun starts to shine brightly through the window, and you hear a couple muted thumps through the walls and ceiling from your neighbors, you figure that now would be a pretty good time to wake up. Sorry, but you just can’t possibly sleep until noon. There are things to be done! And important issues to discuss! So you shake him gently.

“Hey, Dave. Wake up.”

He barely reacts.

“Dave. Wake up!”

No reaction- save a puff of air.

“Heeey, wake up!”

Nothing.

You shake him a bit harder this time.

“Dave! Wake up!”

He remains fast asleep.

You roll your eyes. Oh my god- try to surprise him when he’s napping and he springs up the moment your toe touches the floor. Try to wake him up when he’s _right_ next to you and he sleeps like a damn log. And you thought he had super hearing or something- since he could pick up your practically non-existent breathing. You learn something new every day, apparently.

After five minutes of trying just about every method you know to wake him up, you let out an annoyed huff. You’ve tried pinching, prodding, and downright slapping- but Dave stubbornly refuses to wake up and adamantly stays rooted somewhere deep in dream land. To think you were worried about accidentally waking him up. He could probably sleep through a tornado, or an explosion at this rate.

You can’t get up and leave him either, because he still has a tight hold on you. And he’s just as strong in his sleep as when he’s awake. God damn it. You grumble and thump your head against his chest. Then you kick your feet a bit. He continues sleeping peacefully. God damn it. He might as well be comatose at this rate. You give a frustrated groan and he twitches.

Wait.

What?

You try it again and he shifts. Well, well. Look what we have here- a method that works! The Dave is alive after all. You repeat this a couple times and he continues to show signs of waking up. Yay! Then he rolls on top of you.

Not so much yay.

You yelp as he settles on top of you, and his eyelids flutter open. You stare at the blurry image of his face. Then you blink. Oh wow, Dave has red eyes! That’s so cool! And oh- he’s awake! Oh, he's awake. Oh. You decide to blurt out the first thing that comes to your mind. Because you are brilliant like that.

“Um, good morning!”

There is an incredibly long stretch of silence.

Well.

You are an idiot.

Yep.

Oh boy.

You are so screwed.

So very screwed.

Yeah.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you see that? All that fluff there?  
> More fluff.  
> Take it.  
> Tis my apology for you all.
> 
> Thanks for reading!  
> (alsotherebemorecliffhangers)


	7. Confrontation Ensues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The inevitable awkward confrontation happens.   
> And it is awkward.  
> But progress happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update (yet again)! Anyways, here be the next chapter.

You are awake.

Pale light from the moon streams through your window, pooling at the foot of your bed. It vaguely illuminates your room, various objects casting faded shadows onto the floor and walls. Silence hangs heavy in the air and miniscule dust motes drift through the beams of moonlight. Someone breathes out softly from next to you, breaking the quiet, and you turn your head towards the source of the sound. You see John sleeping beside you.

It is still dark, but you can see the glint of light off the lens of his glasses. As he breathes, you feel his chest rise and fall slowly in time with each inhale and exhale. It’s a steady rhythm and it somehow calms you with its repetition. He murmurs something, too quiet for you to catch, and then snuggles closer to you. Then you realize that he’s asleep in your arms. A pleasantly warm feeling washes throughout your entire body and you move nearer, curling slightly around him.

When you look at him again, you see that his glasses are crooked and are slowly sliding off of his nose. Sleeping with them on can’t be too comfortable for him- judging from how the frame is digging into the side of his face. You bring up a hand and gently remove them from his face. Then you fold them neatly and place them on the pillow behind his head. His face relaxes, almost imperceptibly, once the glasses are gone.

In the faded glow of the moonlight, John seems almost ethereal- his features somehow softer and more faded under the faint light. He sighs happily and that warm, buttery feeling inside you intensifies. You lean closer to him and kiss his forehead softly. Then you let your heavy eyelids close.

This is a pretty nice dream.

 

\----

 

You’re holding onto something extremely important. You aren’t sure what it is, but you do know that you never want to let it go. It’s soft and fits perfectly in your hold. It is also extremely comfortable beside you, emanating warmth that you find calming. Then it moves, pulling away from you, and you hold on tightly to it. Because hell no- this is yours. And it is staying right where it is. Right where it belongs- which is with you.

It stops- momentarily, before continuing with considerably more energy. You keep a firm grasp on it as it struggles to get away from you. Somehow, you get the feeling that it is something incredibly precious to you. So- no. Sorry but you’re staying with me pal. And you will hold on to them if it’s the last goddamn thing you do.

The person squirms and you hang onto them like your life depends on it. Vaguely, you wonder why the hell you’re so determined to keep them from getting away. And how the heck do you know that they’re a person. Huh. Weird. Then you dismiss the thought and continue holding on to them like they’re your lifeline in particularly turbulent waters- got motherfucking tidal waves, whirlpools and all kinds of shit going down here.

They wriggle again in your grip and you frown. Dammit- you will win this. You are going to keep them. It is going to happen. No, stay. He suddenly stops moving. Well, it was about time you think. You let out a content sigh, because fuck yeah- he’s staying here with you now. You smile and pull him closer to you, absentmindedly wondering why he has become slightly warmer. You don’t mind though- now you have John right where you want him. He’s yours.

Wait- John?

John.

What.

Right- you must be dreaming.

Because there is no fucking way you could possibly be hugging him right now. This must be a pillow or something. A warm pillow. That might feel a bit like an actual person. A John-like person. But that’s only because you’re dreaming. Yeah. Of course. Christ- the things your sleep addled mind and some vivid imagination can do.

Faintly, you feel slightly disappointed. Wait- why the hell are you feeling disappointed? And why the fuck are you thinking so much in your sleep? You can’t even be asleep without thinking about things. Goddammit. When everyone can peacefully fall into dream-filled stupors about flower fields or some shit, you have to be stuck with thinking about your feelings. Fan-fucking-tastic. You have the best brain ever.

You are distracted from berating yourself when something snuggles closer to you. Somehow it washes away your previous troubled thoughts and, when it settles comfortably under your chin, you slowly begin to relax. Briefly, you wonder why this is instantly calming and why a strange, yet oddly pleasant, tingly feeling spreads throughout you. Before you know it, you’ve drifted off into quiet, peaceful slumber.

A while later, you vaguely feel someone shaking you gently. You ignore it and instead immerse yourself further into the depths of sleep. Because you are fucking tired. And it is going to take a lot more than that to manage to wake you up. Dimly, you hear John’s muted voice through the haze of your sleep. Normally, he attempts to wake you up around the ass crack of dawn by politely barging into your room and jumping on you. After the fifth time in the first week, you managed to steal his set of spare keys and this activity stopped. However, it certainly didn’t stop him from still trying- via yelling through your bedroom door.

John is a very determined person- a quality that you actually admire about him. At least you usually do- when he’s not trying to wake you up at seven in the fucking morning. Or when he decides to make it his sole mission in life to find out why you’ve been so reclusive for the past few days. Then you’re not so happy about that part of him. Seriously, screw you John. Not literally. But. Yeah. Still, he does try- and it is pretty amazing to see how he stubbornly refuses to give up, no matter the odds.

After a while he stops, and you gratefully sink deeper into the soft, welcoming embrace of rest. You would have liked to have remained stuck there forever- if it were not for the sound. It cuts straight through your fog of dreamless sleep, awakening a glimmer of consciousness in your mind. Just as the dense clouds of sleep land begin to roll over this tear- you hear it again. A very low groan that rumbles through you and stirs a little more of your awareness awake. And it is not necessarily a good part of your mind that starts to become more alert.

Dammit.

After a couple more… noises, you are left struggling to retain your fading shroud of sleep. And it is a battle that you are clearly losing. Goddammit. Now that you are slightly more awake, you can hear the noise more clearly. And fucking hell, the source is actually really close- or it’s just really damn loud. Wait.

Holy shit- what.

It sounds like it’s coming from right fucking _next_ to you.

But you’ve just woken up- so you’re probably mildly confused or something. Maybe you’re having particularly vivid hallucinations. Yeah. Probably that. There is definitely a perfectly logical reason to why you are currently being plagued with these sounds. Hopefully, they’ll stop and you can go back to sleep. They also sound mildly familiar, kind of like Jo- nope. Mentally, you tell your brain to shut up. You roll over, because fuck- it’s way too early for this shit.

And someone yelps.

What.

Your eyelids flutter open and you come face to face with none other than John Egbert. Who is, for some reason or another, underneath you. You are also currently hugging him.

What.

The.

Actual.

Fuck.

“Um, good morning!” John brightly says.

Like it is the most normal thing in the world to wake up with him under you while on a bed. And he is like literally, beneath you and on the same goddamn bed as you.

Dammit brain.

Stop misinterpreting things.

You stare down at him- not sure whether this is the equivalent of a dream come true, or some really fucked up nightmarish situation come true. You’re more inclined to think it is the latter. John looks back at you, his eyes wide, and you get a very good look at the impossible cobalt blue of his irises. You also get the added bonus of seeing his face at close range. Fucking HD quality shit here.

He has impossibly long, dark eyelashes- something any girl would definitely be envious of. They frame his round eyes delicately, providing even more emphasis on how they are currently, impossibly big. His nose curves up gently and is actually pretty cute. You never thought the day would come when you’d call a nose ‘cute’, much less your best friend’s- but apparently this is the day. Your gaze falls toward his mouth before you realize what you’re doing.

Because nope.

Nope.

Hell no.

You were not just admiring your best friend’s awfully nice face. That did not happen. Not at all.

Which reminds you- you’re still on top of John.

And you’re still hugging him.

You are also not supposed to be this close to him.

Because it does things to your heart.

Terrible things.

Time to abscond.

You quickly release your hold on John and push yourself upwards, already halfway in the action of springing up to dash out of your bedroom. You manage to leap off the bed, landing lightly on the floor, before John tackles you.

Wait.

What.

You both land unceremoniously in a heap on the ground, John keeping a tight grip around your middle. “Dave- wait!” he says from behind you. However, your instincts are telling you that you need to get away from John as soon as fucking possible. You struggle against his hold and succeed in loosening his arms for a split second- which is all you need. You push against his arms and slide yourself down, freeing yourself. You briefly hear him make a small noise of annoyance. Then you’re up and on your feet- before he kicks them out from under you. Fucking hell.

As you fall, you twist yourself around so that you’ll end up landing on your knees, instead of on your back- allowing you to be able to get up faster. You successfully land in this position and John launches himself on top of your back, flattening you against the floor. “Oh my fucking god- stop running away!” You do the complete opposite of what he says, by wriggling out from under him. Run, run, run, your mind chants and you do- or at least you try to. Because John grabs your foot and yanks you back down. Dammit.

After several minutes, you seem to be gaining the upper hand when you manage to get him flat on his back. He lands hard, getting the wind knocked out of him in the process. Hopefully that’ll keep him down for a while. As he wheezes, you get up on your knees- ready to escape. Then John kicks your knees out from under you- yet again. Fuck. You fall and he flips you on your back, sitting squarely on top of you- trapping both your hands under his, so that you’re firmly pressed down against the floor. Oh fuck. You squirm, attempting to dislodge him, but he clamps his legs around your sides- locking himself steadfastly to you.

Panting heavily, John looks down at you and grins victoriously. “Fi-na-hah-ally!” he says between gasps for air. You are in no better condition, breathing heavily beneath him, your face flushed and your hair sticking to your forehead with sweat. Fuck, John is damn good at fighting. Experimentally, you try breaking his hold on your hands- and find that you can’t. Where the hell does all this arm strength even come from? You’ve never seen the guy actually workout- wait. Does cooking count as building arm strength? Holy shit. You definitely need to get in on that magic.

“I- wi-n!” John manages to pant out. You snort. Yeah right. You were obviously at a disadvantage- the last thing you were expecting from him was a surprise attack. Who the hell expects the person they’re trying to run from to come flying out of nowhere. And you just woke up. So there- he clearly won due to unfair circumstances. John seemingly reads your mind, because he adds on to his sentence.

“And- I- hah- was at a- a disad-vantage!”

“Yea-h right dude.” You retort, sounding slightly less out of breath than him.

“I- cah-n’t- see clea-rly!” He replies triumphantly.

Well damn- he actually has a point there.

When you don’t reply, his grin grows wider- displaying his adorable two front teeth. You last a good two seconds- before giving an exaggerated sigh of defeat. Okay, fine. He wins. You’re just feeling particularly benevolent towards people with adorkable smiles today. John laughs- something you find particularly endearing. Whenever he laughs, it spreads throughout his entire being- from the corners of his eyes to the rest of him, reverberating soundly through his frame. It tended to spread to other people too, infecting them with a similar feeling of happiness.

Then he stops and a mischievous smile crosses his face. Oh hell no. You know that look- that’s the look before shit goes down. Serious shit.

“Okay, since I’m the winner- you have to do whatever I want.”

Nope. Nope. Time to make like a hockey player and get the puck out of here. And that pun was purely for ironic purposes. You struggle to get free but John maintains the vice-like grip on you with ease as he continues.

“So I’m going to ask you a question- and you _have_ to answer it. Properly this time. And I’m not letting you go until I’m satisfied with your reply.”

Dammit. You are so fucked. You mean- not literally. But still.

“Why have you been acting so weird lately?”

And that is the very question you _don’t_ want to answer. Goddammit. This is partly why you’ve been avoiding direct confrontation with him.

Ever since the day Jade and Rose visited, you found that you absolutely _could not_ be around John. You only realized this the next day when you saw him in the morning. All it took was one look at him and you froze like a deer in headlights. Because what the hell were you supposed to say to him. How do you even breathe. What was breathing again. And thinking- what the hell was that. Then he had asked you about your job, and you had barely managed to recover and tell him about it- before you rapidly retreated back into your room.

After that you avoided him as much as possible. Because you were an idiot- with an extremely guilty conscience. Every time you saw John, you remembered that little incident where your self-restraint flew away to some balmy, tropical island for a while. And you felt fucking horrible. Because John was your best friend. What he thought was well-executed pranks on his part, only fueled certain thoughts of yours- thoughts left best harbored in secret. If you distanced yourself from him, then maybe he’d be safer. And you’d be safer. Because jesus fucking christ- John was lethal to you.

Though you’d never willingly admit it- you were terrified that you’d end up permanently screwing up your friendship with him. You’d do just about anything to prevent that from happening- even if it meant that you ended up with the short end of the stick. You can’t risk hurting him just because you’re an idiot. You and John are just friends- that is how it is, and always will be, until the end of your goddamn life.

And if you might have less-than-platonic feelings towards your dorky best friend, you are just going to have to ignore them. Because that is something that simply cannot happen. Ever. So you immersed yourself in work and hid in your room, plagued constantly with a shit ton of conflicting feelings, in order to keep him clueless as ever.

Which was working pretty damn well, until now.

You stare up at John and wonder what the hell you’re supposed to do now. Obviously, you can’t go blabbing about how you actually feel- but you can’t lie to him either. Fucking guilty conscience- preventing you from taking the easy way out of this situation. It is just shit being you. Dammit.

John looks down at you and you look up at him.

And it remains like this for several minutes.

Whoa, would you look at that- a total bro moment between you guys.

Now you’re just going to look at the ceiling behind his head.

Damn, that is a very interesting ceiling.

Never really had the chance to see it from this angle before.

It’s just- so white.

So fucking white.

Wow.

Yeah.

Then John kindly decides to help you out a bit.

And by ‘kindly helping you out a bit’ you mean he leans in right next to your fucking ear. Holy shit. “Dave, I’m prepared to go to great _lengths_ to get this answer out from you.” He whispers before bringing his head back up. Holy _shit_ . You don’t miss the emphasis on that certain word. And suddenly you feel slightly warmer. Wait- fuck. You’re supposed to be thinking. Of how to get out of this mess. Right.

“You take my damn breath away.” You end up saying.

Oh fuck.

That came out wrong.

“Because you’re sitting on my fragile ribcage and it’s crushing my poor lungs.” You add on quickly.

And the award for the smoothest fucking amending in the history of awkward one-liners goes to you. That was not awkward as fuck just now. It truly was not.

Why the hell are you not disappearing into a cloud of anime sparkles and shit like a mystical being right now.

You would kill to be a magical girl right about now- fuck, you’d even go for the magical sidekick animal at this rate. Just- anything that has the power to teleport or disappear into thin air.

John blinks, clearly not expecting you to say that. Jesus fucking christ- just end your existence right now. Please. Wipe Dave Strider of the face of earth this instant. Then he shifts, so that he’s now off of your chest and is instead straddling your hips.

“Okay now?”

You don’t know whether you should be thankful your sad attempt at buying more time for yourself actually worked, or whether you should be cursing yourself for it actually working. Because fucking hell, that plan certainly backfired on you. As it is, you nod dumbly- not trusting yourself to speak. Apparently, you have been gifted with the remarkable talent of attracting the powers of misfortune- and the fuckers seem to have taken a liking to you. John settles himself more comfortably in place and you let out a string of silent curses inwardly.

“I’m still waiting you know Dave. Anytime you want to answer the question would be fine- like, I don’t know, right now would be perfect.” He says, interrupting your thoughts. Think fast Dave- you really need to get yourself out of this fucking mess. ASAP.

“Okay, okay. You got me. My boss is a fucking slave driver- all event here, special guest coming here, work overtime there, I want quality shit to be played every damn second here, etc. etc. And blah blah blah. You know. Or actually you don’t- so I’m enlightening you. So I was a bit absorbed in work- won’t happen again Egderp, so untwist your worried panties and calm the fuck down a bit okay? Okay. Let’s go start the day by ending the surprise ‘John Investigation/Interrogation’ channel and starting the ‘Let’s actually do some Productive Shit’ channel.”

Well. That sounded pretty believable. And it wasn’t even a lie- it was the truth. Well, part of it. But it’s still the truth. So, yeah. If that wasn’t convincing enough, you don’t know what is. Go you.

“…Is that the whole truth? How do I know that wasn’t just a load of b.s right there? Because it kind of sounded like it.” John says, looking at you doubtfully.

Dammit.

“You hurt me John- your accusations cut me to the bone. It’s not just a flesh wound either- I’m fucking dying here. Call 911. Tell them it is crucial that they get their asses over here pronto- I need to get to the ER immediately. Got a life threatening injury to my delicate fee fees because of you. Wait- hold on. Oh no. John. John, I see the light. John- make me stop seeing the light.”

“Dave- you’re rambling. I’ve known you long enough to know that you only do that when you’re nervous. I call b.s.”

“Have a little ye of faith in me here. It isn’t b.s because I say so. And I’m not nervous- that is not an emotion I am capable of having. Christ- and you call yourself my best friend, John.”

You really should have stopped there- but apparently you’re on a fucking roll or something. Must be because your nerves are jittery as fuck right now. And because you’re too near to John- he is literally sitting on top of… certain places. Something you’d rather not think too deeply about. Yeah. So you continue babbling away at high-speed.

“I am calm as fuck right now. I am feeling zen as hell. I am cooler than a motherfucking cucumber chilling in -2.2°C water at the bottom of Antarctica. I’m serene as an iceberg floating in calm waters on a clear day with mediocre sunlight. Wait- fucking hell, too much sun would melt that poor fucker. Mediocre or not. Okay- scrap that. Make it-”

You have no idea what the hell you are saying right now- but it is definitely b.s.

John is looking at you with a rather perplexed expression on his face- like he can’t figure out whether he should burst out laughing, or tell you to shut up.

“-a clear night with a full moon and, like a wolf or something is howling at the sky. And there are orcas or some dolphin things doing acrobatic leaps out of the cold-ass water- leaving sparkly trails of water behind them. And you can see the aurora borealis shining in the background. Peaceful as shit. So calm right now. So fucking calm. Like whoa, how the hell am I so calm when you’re _literally sitting right on my d_ -”

You shut up.

Because damn yourself to hell. You weren’t supposed to be thinking about that. At all. Nope. Still not thinking about it. Definitely not.

John takes one look at your face- and bursts out into giggles. “Oh my _god_! Dave you’re such a dork! Hehehe!” You stare at him because what. What is so funny right now. “What.” You say blankly, and he completely cracks up. So you awkwardly remain flat on the floor, because you still can’t move a fucking inch, while he laughs himself silly on top of you.

This is by far, the weirdest morning ever.

When John manages to recover from his sudden outburst of hysterical laughter, he becomes extremely solemn. Honestly, you’re having trouble keeping up with all the fucking changes in atmosphere here. One moment it’s awkward as fuck, next it’s light-hearted, then it’s as serious as hell. He stares down at you, long enough to make you slightly anxious about the sudden change in mood. Then he says, “Promise me you’ll stop avoiding me, okay?”

You look back at him, at the intense force behind his captivating eyes- and you hesitate. Guilt gnaws away at you, a dark black mass that coils deep inside your gut- reminding you of what you did. And you can’t. You can’t promise him that. Then his gaze softens, and he leans down to gently bump his forehead against yours. “Dave, I forgive you.” He simply says.

And somehow, this simple phrase soothes your guilty conscience and floods you with relief. Just hearing him say that he forgives you, erases the negative thoughts that had crept up to the corners of your mind. The ones that had made your guilt grow, ever so slowly, over the past few days locked up in your room. You didn’t know how badly you wanted- needed, to hear this line of reassurance from him- even if he doesn’t specify what exactly he forgives you for. You look back at John’s face, so innocently open, terribly honest and, just, so goddamn _lovable_ \- and you end up promising him.

Because you are so fucking weak against John Egbert.

Goddammit.

You really have it bad for him.

He smiles, and your heart flutters like a goddamn butterfly in your chest. Then he shifts slightly, wiggling around a bit on top of you. Oh fuck. You’d forgotten that he was basically sitting on your- stop. Nether regions stop. Stop doing whatever you’re not supposed to be doing. Just- stop. Holy shit. Dammit- apparently today is opposite day. He stops moving and you quietly thank your lucky stars. Then he releases your hands and sits back, rocking slightly on top of you. Fucking hell.

“Hey Dave?” he asks, with a thoughtful expression on his face.

“Sup Egbert.” You manage to casually reply. And it does not come out slightly strained at all.

“Let’s go out to eat pancakes.”

“…Pancakes.”

“Pancakes.” He confirms, sounding deathly serious.

“Pancakes.” You repeat dryly.

“Mhm.”

“Sure.”

“Pancakes.” John finalizes.

You arch an eyebrow at him and he nods back at you. Pancakes. It is agreed. Then both of you start snickering. Because- pancakes. After that, John gets off of you and you sit up. He opens your bedroom door and takes a single step out, before turning back towards you.

“Hey Dave?”

“Yeah?”

“You have a pretty big package.” He says, flashing you a mischievous smirk. Then he disappears out into the hallway.

…Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And progress was made.  
> And- no cliff hangers.  
> Tis a miracle.
> 
> Thanks for sticking around!  
> (I was hospitalized. There was no wifi. But all is well now.)


End file.
